Redemption in Tartarus
by Kinthinia
Summary: When Greek mythological creatures start walking the earth, it's up to the Winchesters to stop them. Their newest tagalong Carissa comes with them to lock Hades away forever. Falling in love was the best thing to happen.
1. Life Always Starts with a Dream

Chapter One, Life Always Starts with a Dream

_She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head against his strong chest. "I don't want you to go," she murmured. He always seemed to be going for some reason or another. "You just got here," she whined, "don't leave me again." She reached up with one hand, running it through his soft hair._

_His arms awkwardly settled on her shoulders and gently moved her back from him. "It's my mission. I must."_

_"You're choosing to," she cried softly. "Choosing to leave me."_

_"Arisa please let go." He had made her step back from him; her arms were still firmly locked around his neck. She could hear the strain in his voice._

_"No!"_

_"Ari," he growled warningly. "I have to go. They're calling me."_

_"I call you too! You never come! But sure, you'll drop everything for them. The humans!" He pulled a knife from his pocket and she recoiled immediately with a cry. Why did he have that cursed thing? "Do you mean to kill me?"_

_He looked at her with those dark, piercing eyes. If she continued to be an obstacle, he would kill her. _

With a startled cry I sat bolt upright, limbs flailing, breathing heavily. I put a hand to my forehead, trying to calm myself. I didn't know that man. But it felt so real, whoever he was. It seemed like he wanted me dead and he meant it, but something told me that it wasn't right. He would never do something like that. I couldn't believe that he would ever want me dead. But he was just a figment of my imagination. Just a nightmare if anything.

And I couldn't understand why that knife was so important to my dream self -although I was being called a different name, I saw everything from that girl's perspective. But it was very important and shocking. Absolutely horrifying. It meant danger, outright danger and death. Any knife could, but somehow my dream self was only concerned with that one knife that he possessed. Almost as though any other knife wouldn't kill me, which was a joke. I wasn't some immortal –I was very much mortal and my life was on the line and if someone drew a knife at me, I certainly wasn't going to let them get away with it.

I looked at my alarm clock, groaning. It wasn't even time for me to be at work. But I would be nice and early today. I reached over and turned the alarm off before standing up and stretching luxuriously. This was the first time I'd had that particular dream. Lately it seemed that dreams were plaguing me more often. They were just dreams, no matter what anyone said. My friend at work, Nicolai, he always said that there was more to dreams. I chuckled involuntarily as I pulled clothing from my dresser and tossed them on my bed behind me.

Thinking of Nicolai I had an idea of what he'd think of my dreams. He'd probably say something like: the knife means that you have problems with relationships, the presence of the neck signifies that you have to control your feelings and the reference to the man's piercing eyes alluding to how you observe the world. Something completely useless like that while he thought of it as helping me. He liked to study the meaning of dreams and even flowers which he would then try and present in some coherent manner. As far as I was concerned, it was full of lies.

I shoved my drawer closed and yanked on my usual clothing. Jeans and a t-shirt. Checking on the weather I brushed open my curtains and I found it to be a sunny and warm day. The same as any in this town. I wouldn't be needing a jacket today. I grabbed a pair of socks and pulled them on. I walked to work. Driving was too much of a hassle and owning a car was too expensive for me. And work was within walking distance. It was a refreshing walk.

I went out to my small dining room. In the last few years I'd gotten a loan from the bank and started up a daycare. I hired Nicolai, and we started working. In a few short years I'd paid off the loan, and a few more after that I was able to purchase my own house. Of course I had to pay the mortgage off, which would probably take the rest of my life. Or most of it.

I pulled out a small container of yogurt and eagerly devoured it. It was a quick and light breakfast. I had time enough today to make breakfast, but it was already habit to just eat yogurt, and I didn't want to start cooking. I didn't have enough time everyday so it was quicker to just eat yogurt. After having eaten it so often I was beginning to tire of it, but it was my choice to limit my time and to eat what I chose. I was settled on it.

Having eaten I set off to organize myself. I brushed my teeth thoroughly, as part of my usual routine, and then untied my hair from its confines. It was more manageable if I left it tied back during the night to prevent tangles and knots. I began the process of spraying in detangler and brushing out the tangles. Not that I usually wore it down, but it tended to get everywhere and was a hassle. Just not bad enough to make me want to chop it all off. I quite valued my hair, which was vain of me, but I figured that I was allowed one small selfishness. Once the tangles and knots were gone, I quickly and efficiently braided my hair back.

And then, as was my manner, I slipped into my shoes and was out the door after locking it and heading towards work. I liked to dawdle until the last minute possible. Well I would _still_ be early, but I was in the habit of exactly how much timing it required to do each activity. I sighed –I really should have made some expansive breakfast today. Would have taken longer and then I wouldn't look like I was punctual. I liked being on time, but I also liked to appear like I was late. It was a bit of a contrast and sometimes difficult to manage but I did it. Arriving just barely on time, but on time enough to never be late yet almost appear so.

It was a ten minute walk, part of the reason why I chose the house that I was living in. I managed a daycare. I also worked there and helped out, as I liked children. Nicolai did too, which made it a lot easier to hire him. I had at least six little toddlers to take care of.

I got to work at half past seven, and was surprised to see that Nicolai was already there. He unlocked the door and let me into my establishment. It was a small enough building with a large backyard where some sandboxes and other playground equipment was set up. Inside we had cards and board games and blankets and such for the kids. The colors were moderate –I'd conferred with a friend of mine who was interested in designing and she'd advised me to select colors that weren't too vibrant or dull. I chose a perfectly medium purple, trimmed in gray with a boring white ceiling. And so far the toddlers didn't seem to be too crazy when they were here, but they were energetic children –some of them.

"Carissa!"

"Yes?" I asked my employee, smiling warmly. "Such a surprise to see me here early? Didn't think I'd _ever_ shock you."

"I never thought you'd be early," he retorted, his gray eyes twinkling impishly.

I rolled my eyes. "How early do you even get here?"

"Ah, at about quarter after six or so, I think."

I stared at him for a minute before stifling a laugh. "That's when I get up."

He shrugged, "It's a long enough walk and I like to be punctual and fit. Works for me to be early."

"That's not early," I pointed out, "that's _insanely_ early. No reasonable person would ever get to work almost two hours early."

"I do."

"Point and case."

"I'm sane –"

"You study the meaning behind flowers and symbols in dreams," I scoffed dryly. "That's scholarly behavior, friend, and it's not normal or healthy."

"Your lack of intrigue is what's truly frightening."

"Yet we were not discussing what was frightful," I snickered. "Failure to change topics effectively, Nico." Nico was my nickname for him –Nicolai was far too serious for my employee.

It was his turn to roll his eyes and with a preppy wave, I went into my office to do some paperwork until it was time for the daycare to open. Summer was fast approaching which would help my business increase as pre-school aged kids would be dropped off. It would be wonderful business. I looked at life that way, and there wasn't usually a shortage of children around. I offered services for four children during the school year. During any breaks where more parents dropped more toddlers off, I had a few other employees I called out due to the regulations. I had several part-timers to work during the school year and even outside of it, so it also helped keep within the regulations.

I settled on doing my paperwork while Nico prepped the snacks and toys and such. I paused and looked out the glass window at him, wondering how little I now even paid attention to his work. He'd been working for me when I first opened this place. He was a good, hard worker and he knew what he had to do. I smiled slightly and turned back to my fees. Nicolai had his quirks and flaws, but he was persistent and hard working –something that I admired in him. And as if he sensed my eyes on him, he turned to look back at me and he grinned and winked. Like he thought he was the hottest man in the world or something. I exaggerated the movement of rolling my eyes and looked at my far more appealing financial paperwork.

"Working hard Nico?" I called, scribbling down some numbers.

"Always boss –wouldn't think of slacking off."

I snorted. He was a good worker, but he could get distracted easily. He usually caught himself and went back on task, but sometimes it required a word or two. He never thought about getting distracted –it just happened.

We maintained our silence and distance and continued working. When it hit quarter to eight, I had Nicolai open the shop and we sat around and waited. It wasn't often that toddlers were late or early in being dropped off. Usually it was right on time with what I assumed was a working routine. However, I was surprised as I watched this ancient tin can drive by. I'd never seen a car like it before. It had to be one huge fossil fuel producer. The owners should recycle the thing. It wasn't environmentally friendly at all, as far as I was concerned. Old cars were never environmentally friendly.

What shocked me the most was when it parked in my daycare parking lot. I felt my entire body tense at that moment as I watched out a window. Two men got out and they opened the back door and a younger boy got out with them. I looked over at Nico. "Get the door," I said softly. My office door was open and voices carried well in here –in case some child ever got hurt it wouldn't be hard to hear them.

Nicolai got the door and he spotted the two men, both looking like they were in their late twenties or so. And then, there was the kid. He was young, about four or so by my guessing, as I bustled out of my office. I smiled warmly at them.

"Can I help either of you?" I asked brightly. Business was business.

"Uh, yeah," the shorter one said.

"We need our… nephew here, to be watched. And well, we're awfully busy, Miss…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I currently don't have any more available room for children."

"You run a daycare don't you," again it was the shorter one's statement.

"Yes."

"Then look after the kid."

"I can't. For two employees I can only look after four kids. I'm sorry. Unless another customer doesn't show up today, then I can look after your… nephew."

"This is the last daycare we've come to," explained the taller man. "We really need someone to look after him."

I hadn't noticed that Nicolai was standing beside me until he gently set his hand on my shoulder. He bent down towards the boy, "What's your name?" he asked kindly.

"Thomas."

"And how old are you?" He held up his hand, five fingers spread. Nicolai chuckled, "I bet you're hungry, huh?" the boy nodded. "Let's get you something to eat."

I glanced at the men, my eyes narrowing. The kid should have eaten before they came here. "You should have made other arrangements prior to a last minute situation," I informed them stiffly.

"It was a last minute situation for us too, Miss," the tall man explained again. He was certainly more respectful than the shorter fellow.

"You should have fed your nephew before coming here. At the very least you should have known that!" I scolded. "And if it was such a last minute, unable-to-be-taken-care-of thing, you should have said no to your brother! I wouldn't suspect this even from an adolescent teenager and yet you're both adults who can't even feed a child!"

"You little bi –kitchen!" snapped the shorter man suddenly, looking in the direction of where our small kitchen was. I frowned at him, and then noticed that Nico and Thomas were within earshot.

"He likes kitchens. A lot," the other said lamely.

Riiiight, I thought, and I'm a fire breathing astronaut. There was something a little off about these two. I glanced towards their nephew. "What I said still stands, if one of my customers doesn't show, I'll look after Thomas." I turned back to my office, pausing before glancing at them. "You can sit… wherever." I entered into my office, and proceeded to wait.

It was a slow day and I only had one other child to look after. It was a long weekend so I wasn't too surprised. I didn't have anything to do, and I loved doing this job enough that I was willing to waste away weekends. Once Nico had the two kids distracted, I invited the young men into my office and pulled out a contact sheet which I handed to them.

"As his guardians I need to know what he's allergic to and who I should contact in case of emergency. Also is this going to be a recurring service or is it just a one-time thing?"

"We travel a lot –so it'll only be a one time thing."

I typed it into my computer. "Names?"

"I'm Dean Winchester," the shorter man said, "and that's my brother Sam."

I wondered how many misunderstandings had occurred for him to be so precise with an introduction. I added that. "All day care or just for an hour or two?" I'd had hourly service done before.

"All day."

I nodded and added that into the computer, complied the price and asked for it. The brothers traded a glance and Dean dug into his pocket, passing me the money. I placed it into my cashier and then counted the change back to them. I offered a tight smile. "Then I'll see you at five," I told them.

They rose and left my office. I watched them leave, but I didn't watch them head to their environment destroyer. Those two men were certainly odd. And I wondered why they hadn't taken care of the kid properly. Even teenaged or pre-teenaged children knew to feed their wards. Two grown men didn't? What was that about? I hoped the kid would fit in well enough, not that I expected his rude uncles to have rubbed off on him too much.

* * *

Dean set his hands on the steering wheel, and looked over at his brother. "I like kitchens," he quoted flatly.

"You were the one to choose it," he snapped. "What else did you want me to say?"

"Oh I don't know, but certainly saying that I was interested in kitchens wasn't it."

"I'll try harder next time."

He rolled his eyes and backed out of the parking spot. "Off to the morgue now that we've dealt with the kid."

"Yeah. The sooner we find out how they died, the faster you can be rid of the kid."

"He's a poor kid –losing both his parents to that demon." Dean shook his head.

"He's five years old, Dean."

"I know. And –?"

Sam sighed exasperated. "Nothing." Silence passed between them. "Think we should let Cas know?"

"Dunno Sammy, I'm thinkin' it's just a low grade demon and we'll finish this up nice and quick and be out of this cesspit of a town." He turned from the main road, "There's no decent bar here!"

"Bars aren't everything Dean. And besides, we're supposed to be responsible uncles to that kid. To be honest, I'm surprised he even went along with it."

"Responsible? I'm always responsible." Sam's brown eyes bored into his, seeming to ask since when. "Oh come on –I look after you don't I?"

"I'm old enough to look after myself," he replied tersely.

* * *

It was only three in the afternoon, and I was doing some paperwork in my office. It was important work that had to be done at that moment and as I was quickly writing down calculations and reports, I heard something. At first I discounted it and continued with what I was doing. Nico would be perfectly fine with only two toddlers to look after. As I was about to sign my name, on that lovely dotted line, I heard a distinct shout and I dropped the pen as I stood up, my chair scraping against the carpet.

The whole area was carpeted for children's safety. I jogged off, glancing through the interior trying to spot where Nicolai and the toddlers were. I found him in the main playroom, with the two boys cowering in the corner. There was another man standing in the room. Odd. I hadn't heard him enter earlier. Or maybe I had, and that was the sound that first distracted me. Nico cast a glance in my direction, and he must have noticed my confused expression as he stepped toward the man.

"You can't be here sir. These aren't your children –they already have loving families who will be back shortly to pick them up."

The man in question only raised one eyebrow and reached out toward Nicolai. I hadn't realized how close the two had been before. And before my very eyes, he had grabbed Nico by the throat and he threw my friend and employee towards the wall where he hit with a loud grunt and then he fell to the floor. And I couldn't tell if his crumpled, prone, form was moving or not.

I didn't have time enough to even cry out because before I knew it the tall man had rushed towards me, slamming his hand around my throat and flying to the far wall where he held me. I was dangling just above the floor, my feet couldn't find the soft carpet.

His golden eyes held mine the moment our gazes met and I struggled to lift myself from his grasp but it made no difference. He leaned closer towards me and I attempted to pulled back but the wall made that impossible. And then I was captivated by his eyes. There was something slightly different about them from before. I tried to kick at him, not understanding why any of this was happening.

"Let me go!"

With an inhumane hiss, he opened his mouth, fangs flashing. "He is my prey –they taste sweeter with sorrow," he added, with an unearthly, hollow, laugh.

No! He couldn't kill those children! They were _my _responsibility. I struggled against him, daring to raise my arm to hit him. Sadly I had been too entranced by his eyes to do anything earlier. His arm blocked it and slammed my arm above my head. I attempted to do the same thing with my free arm, but using the same arm that still held my other, he blocked my punch and forced my arms above my head. If I was shorter, my kicks might have amounted to something but as it was nothing happened.

"You are annoying," he growled, leaning in towards my unprotected neck. He slammed my head back against the wall and let me drop, pulling away with a sneer. The pain blossomed angrily, flaring around my head in what had to be hatred. "And worthless," he added.

Then the man turned towards the children, grinning evilly. I rose to my shaky legs, stumbling towards Nico –he had to be alright. I looked at the man as he approached Thomas and the other boy. I turned towards them, my hands shaking. "No," I whispered.

Nicolai or the children… Who was more important? I couldn't let them die. I couldn't let him die. I staggered towards him again, feeling weak and helpless. Useless. Worthless. I had to try and stop him. I hurried towards him –I couldn't let the children die. But the man knew that I was there. He didn't even bother to look back at me and swiped me along side the head, sending me crashing against the floor with an agonized cry.

I couldn't get up either. I tried, but the jolting bolts of pain wouldn't permit any movement. Tears of frustration and uselessness welled up in my eyes and I steadily blinked them away. I wanted to stop him more than anything but it hurt too much to move. And I hated that. I struggled against the pain, managing to sit up. It was horrible –I inhaled deeply and held it for a moment. I heard their screams and I fought to stand on weak legs that could barely support my weight.

But I was already too late.

He whirled to face me, blood dribbling down his chin. He grinned crookedly, "Sorrow tastes so sweet," he murmured, leaning towards me.

And then, what happened next, occurred in rapid succession. The door slammed open; two men ran in, and one headed towards my charges and one towards me. He held something in his hands, and he swung the blade and a splatter of blood erupted. The face that had been descending towards me, separated from its body and in a grisly shower of gore, I let out a piercing scream.

No attention was directed at me. Dean, as I could now recognize him, ran and grabbed the head, pulling the body behind him. He glanced at the kids and Sam, who left Nicolai to follow his brother. I fought against my fear to stay unmoving at the wall, and made my way towards Nico. I could see that he was breathing, and I heaved a sigh of relief and dropped to my knees. I hadn't realized how shaky I had been. I was pointedly ignoring the rancid odor wafting around. It smelled like rotten eggs that had been doused in vinegar.

I made my way towards the children and couldn't stifle a horrified cry form breaking past my lips. They were both dead. I had suspected they were when he came towards me but there was nothing I could do. I was completely useless. I couldn't save the children I had taken into my responsibility. What good was I?

I could faintly hear something, like the gentlest fluttering of butterfly's wings. And there stood a middle aged man. He turned to look at me and he seemed surprised and confused. I dimly realized that I was still covered in that monster's blood. He was wearing a trench coat. That was really the only feature about him that I found particularily defining. It was a very bland colored trench coat too. I felt a few tears fall unbidden and I turned away to look at Nico. He was at least alive. He hadn't died. Just my wards had.

"Dean? Sam?" I mutely pointed towards my office. I was fairly certain that they ran off towards that direction.

I had let their nephew die. They would never forgive me. It would be understandable that in my care children had been hurt. It was completely improbable for toddlers to die at a daycare unless a murderer came by. This may have been a murderer, but I should have done more.

I heard the crackling of a fire and I looked back towards my office. It was in flames. I could see my papers burning up. My mouth dropped open. How? Not this! I had worked all my life to get this building and to run this business. I would have lost my business anyways, but I could have leased the building or something. I couldn't if it was in ruins. If it was nothing but ruins I was out of a life.

I heard their voices and looked over at the three men all talking together. They directed their attention to me, and I felt something within me bubbling. "I'm sorry," I cried. "I'm sorry. Your-your nephew-!"

"He wasn't our nephew," Sam said quietly. "He was an orphan and we were trying to… catch whatever murdered his parents. We needed someone to look after him."

"Didn't think that it'd be a vampire with a sweet tooth," Dean stated, with a trace of humor. I stared in stunned silence at them, trying to stop my involuntary tears. "You, uh, might want to skip town for a while. The cops'll be crawling all over this place in a couple of hours."

"And where would I go?" I snarled angrily. "_This_ is my home. With two dead boys on my hands, my injured friend and my office on fire!"

"You can either go to jail, seeing as you'll be unable to explain all this, or you can get out of town. And I mean fast."

I attempted to rise to my feet, but I couldn't and the pain that I hadn't been thinking about came up in one powerful surge. It crippled me, and I fell to my knees. And then, it hit again and I dropped unconscious to the floor.

* * *

_Author's Comments:_

_I would have rather used asterisks to define the switching of POVs but they disappear and then the paragraphs merge together, so I've had to use line breaks to define the switch in points of view._

_This story takes place in season five._

_I have only seen each Supernatural episode once, and missed maybe a couple. I don't know too much about the show, but thanks to my wonderful friend who knows everything about it, I have been able to correct any mistakes that might have occurred. And writing Dean is hard for me. I guess it's a good thing that she's a Dean fan. _

_Also this is for you, dear friend, and you know who you are and you know why. _

_Happy Early Birthday!_


	2. Nothing makes this Girl Happier

Nothing makes this Girl Happier than Shopping when someone else is paying

_She stood frozen to the spot, looking at him desperately. "Don't go," she whispered. _

_He still held that knife in his hands. He looked down and sighed, looking back at her. "Duty calls."_

_"I love you." Her words finally seemed to reach him, and he flinched. His blue eyes open wide, and his mouth slightly agape. "I've always loved you."_

_"Ari…" he said softly. Her nickname always sounded sweeter when he said it. "Don't make me do this."_

_"Love and duty," Arisa remarked scathingly. "Which can you ever afford to give up?"_

_"My duty is love to Him," he growled. "As yours should be."_

_"It is. But my heart can choose for itself to love who it will, and it has chosen you. I've chosen to love you. I won't ever choose anyone else. I love you more." It seemed as though her heart might break. "I'm begging you to not go."_

_"You're asking me to betray all that they've worked for, all that I believe in," he said tersely._

_"I'm asking you to be mine."_

_"I won't give up on them."_

_"I'm not asking you to!" she shouted. "I want to be yours; I want you to be mine! That's all. You can still have them. But you're not servant to their whims, or mine. You belong to yourself, but I want to be yours. Fight as long and as hard as you want to, but don't go just because they call you."_

_He closed his eyes and looked away from her. "Some things are more important," he murmured and the pain was clear in his voice, and she guessed at what he would say next. "And I must attend to that which I know is more so."_

_"No!" she cried, lunging towards him, but it was too late. He was already gone._

My body reacted in accordance with the dream, and as I lunged forward my eyes flew open and someone grabbed me and pulled me back. I fought with them, trying to free myself from their grasp but there was something constricting me. I looked down to realize that I had someone's very large coat draped over me and in my attempts to fight whomever I had ended up entangled in it. I looked around, noticing that I was not in my own room. In another glance I spotted Sam sitting at the side of the bed, looking at me warily.

I struggled against the coat, freeing my arms and then I untangled the thing. Some of my hair had come free from its tie and as I went to brush it back, I caught sight of blood on my hand and I froze. As if seeing Sam wasn't hint enough that what had happened was real. I swallowed tightly.

"We uh, needed to get out town. Cas gave you his jacket so that if we ran into anyone, we wouldn't seem… suspicious with a woman covered in blood in the backseat of our car."

"Where am I?" I demanded, trying to hold my emotions back.

"A motel in Broxton Georgia."

I stared flatly at him for a brief moment. I wasn't even in the same state anymore. Well it was arguable; I lived in a border town in Florida so I wasn't _that_ far from home. "Why…?"

"How could you explain everything that happened rationally enough to appease the police?"

I stared at him for a moment and then let my head fall. I never could. I could tell them about the murderer, but I would never have any proof and they would never find any. It would be useless. I felt tears escape my eyes again. My business was gone. I could never go back to my house again. I had been forced to run from my responsibilities, and my friend. Nico…

I was covered in a dead man's blood. I could still smell that rotten-egg-doused-in-vinegar scent. It was disgusting. "Who are you?" I asked wearily. I knew his name, but he didn't know mine. We hadn't been properly introduced and now seemed as good a time as any for us to be introduced.

"Sam Winchester," he said, hesitating.

"I'm Carissa Corwin," I said, my voice breaking, holding out a shaking hand.

His large hand enveloped mine, and we shook. His grasp was more firm than my own, but I couldn't summon strength enough to make my shake seem even worthwhile. "It's okay," he said softly, as we released the other's hand.

"No it isn't. I let two little boys die –it was my responsibility to look after them. I failed!"

"No one could expect you to fend off a vampire."

I opened my mouth to reply and then promptly closed it. "What?" The words came out forced, and full of disbelief.

Sam sighed, "You know all those myths and things that bump in the night?" I nodded. "Well they're real. And my brother and I hunt them. Which is why we were in your town."

"I want to call you crazy," I told him, looking down at my hands, "but I can't."

"You wouldn't be the first," he chuckled, "and I doubt the last."

I was silent for a moment, trying to choose the most appropriate and necessary questions to ask. "What do I do after this? I have no home to go to. I'm alone in this world."

"Go somewhere else," he suggested. "Start fresh."

I felt tears fill my eyes, "It's not a fresh start that I want –I want my old life back."

"Life moves in different ways and no one can ever really go back, no matter how much they want to."

"I didn't ask for this," I told him, tears running down my cheeks.

"No one ever gets what they want. Often you get exactly the opposite of what you want."

I went to wipe at my face but realized that there was blood on my sleeve and set my hand back down to clasp my other. I was still covered in blood. "I feel disgusting," I groaned. I saw Sam's look of questioning and fixed him with a glare. "I'm covered in blood and I don't know if my friend survived the fire, I feel miserable and worn out and I have absolutely no idea what to do with this hunting information or what to do with he rest of my life, which is probably considerably shorter than expected after all this stress!"

"Dean pulled your employee out of the fire. I hauled you out of the build and to the Impala, and he dragged the other guy safely away from the fire."

"He's alive," I breathed in relief. My tears started again, flowing faster, and I tried to blink them away. It didn't work out so well. I looked at Sam, smiling. "Thank you."

"You're welcome… And as for your blood solution, there is a shower."

I cast a wry look towards him, "Does it look like I have a spare set of clothing on me?"

"I was about to say that you could wear Cas's coat or something of…" he glanced at me, who was considerably shorter than his height. I was only five foot nine. He had to be at least six foot five or something gigantic like that. "I think you're best bet would be to just wear those clothes you're in, and wear the trench coat over them. When Dean gets back you can get him to buy you some new clothes." Humor twinkled in his brown eyes.

I sighed, resigned. Just to get rid of this blood from my skin and hair would be bliss enough. "Where?"

"Down the hall, last door on your left."

I pulled on the trench coat, noticing the dim scent of old spice. It was a faint trace of the smell, but the odor was strong enough that I could easily pick it out from many. I noticed then the stiffness in my back, and I pushed it to the side. I wanted to get rid of the blood and hopefully moving around would help.

"Is there by any chance something I could wear besides this t-shirt?" I asked, belatedly noticing the stickiness of it against my skin.

Sam looked around, "All of my stuff would be way too big for you." He paused, "Even Dean's stuff will be pretty huge."

"I can hide it under the coat."

At that particular moment I had to wonder if that was the purpose of a trench coat. To conceal things. It seemed probable. "Uh…" Sam started to move around, digging through a couple of bags before finally pulling out a drab gray shirt and then handing it to me.

"Thank you." I then left the room, checking the number outside of it so that I knew which one to return to. It was room four. I made my way down to the bathroom, and was pleased to find it available. Soaps were available which was surprising because this was a motel. I figured that someone had probably forgotten them. But that was their price for forgetfulness and it was my benefit. Whatever got rid of the blood, the better.

I had to admit that it was a good thing that I wasn't squeamish around blood. Probably if I was, it would be too much for me to handle with all this stress around. I closed and locked the door behind me, sighing as I removed the trench coat. Its only redeeming feature was the scent. It was too big for me by a couple of inches, which I supposed was how it was supposed to be but still… If I had any other choice, I wouldn't be wearing that hideous thing. But I didn't want to be pegged for a murderer or something. I was a victim.

My reflection looked back at me when I turned to the side, noticing the sink with the mirror above it. I almost gagged. Despite my black hair, I could easily see the clumps of hair glued together from dried blood and I forcibly stopped myself from touching them. My slightly tanned complexion was even marred by the dark red stains all over my face. I looked away quickly, holding my stomach as though it would help me from not retching. How anyone could stand to look at me without feeling sick, I would not understand.

I removed my jeans and carefully inspected them; they only had a couple of bloody spots on them. I peeled off my t-shirt and avoided looking at it. I could tell from the sensation as it parted from my skin that it was just a bloody mess. I set Dean's oversized shirt far away from them, just to be cautious. I reached over to the shower and turned it on, aiming for a moderate temperature. I stepped into the welcoming warm spray of water.

The sudden change from air room temperature to warm water caused slight surprise as it always did but I kept the water as it was. I grabbed the curtain and pulled it over next, and noticed that the pristinely white bathtub was slowly staining red. I bit down on my lip involuntarily, physically holding back my disgust. I forced my hands towards my hair and began to gently massage and work out any clumps that I found. In order to prevent my horror at the blood from overwhelming me, I just stopped thinking about it and closed my eyes. I would open an eye every once in a while to see if there was still blood running down the tub or not, and if I saw it, I just continued washing.

When I opened both eyes and saw no more blood, I then grabbed the soap and started to wash again. I let the foamy bubbles of the shampoo work themselves into my hair and then I scrubbed them away. I was pleased to discover that it wasn't a shampoo and conditioner two-in-one, but separate shampoo and conditioner. My hair needed to have the conditioner separate in order to make it a possibility that I could get the hairbrush through it. I rubbed the conditioner into my scalp and then grabbed the shower gel next.

I probably washed more thoroughly than I had ever done before. I wanted to make sure that I got every spec of that… vampire's… blood from me. I didn't need his filth contaminating me. If that was even possible –I'd have to ask Sam about that. Still as I washed I found tendrils of blood swirling down the bathtub, as if they were silently mocking me.

I turned off the shower, grabbed the proffered towel and dried as thoroughly as I had washed. I wished that I could curse the man who had killed the vampire and therefore covered me in blood, but I couldn't. He had saved my life either way. I supposed that I would have to thank him. It was polite, after all. And I did value my life at the moment, for however long that would last and whatever it would precisely entail.

I glanced at my t-shirt and shuddered, it was a just an awful mess. I pulled on my jeans first before turning to Dean's shirt. It was very bland and boring, and with a deep breath I pulled the shirt back, and then slipped into the trench coat and glanced at the bath tub. I didn't want anyone to find as much as a single trace of blood against it. I was sure it wouldn't lead to anything good. Although I couldn't see anything, I rinsed the tub out anyways. Maybe I was being a little paranoid, but those cop shows had me thinking of if I was spotted by anyone here and they reported me to those who wanted to talk to me in connection with the boys' death then leaving behind a trace of blood would be a very bad thing as it could help point me out to people. I was assuming again. I needed to stop doing that. It could make me into an irrational person.

I returned to room four, and found that Sam had moved over to a nearby desk and had his laptop out, idly skimming over some information of some sort. He glanced back at me, his layered hair bouncing. I sat down at the end of the bed looking over at him, and he seemed to sense that I had a question for him and he turned his chair away from his laptop.

"Can you get contaminated from vampire blood?"

He frowned and shook his head, "Never even heard of it happening."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Hunting?" I nodded. "About fourteen years, I guess," he said with a shrug.

"That's a long time," I murmured.

"It's also a family business and there are a lot of hunters my age who've been doing this longer."

I knew that tone. That slightly resigned one. "You're not passionate about your… job."

"It's a good job –we save people and help the world. There are things I'd rather do, but this is what I'm doing –something useful and it helps people."

"Why don't you just quit?"

"I tried once. It just comes back and sucks you right into the ugly truth again."

"And people call you crazy," I said lightly, "when you save their lives and they owe you for it."

"Only when we have to try and tell them about what we did."

"Thank you," I told him, hoping it wasn't too belated. He and his brother had both saved me. I was alive because of them. And I had wanted to call him crazy.

He smiled and I felt compelled to hug him. Here he was forced to do a job he didn't like to save people who usually thought he was crazy and who made his life difficult while rarely getting thanked. I could infer that much. No one is going to thank a crazy person for burning down their office and taking them from their home. And here I was, thanking him. My life was unfair at the moment, but his must have been that way for a long, long time.

He shifted and then stood up, stretching. I hadn't noticed how tall he was. I mean I knew he was tall, I just didn't think he was _that_ tall. "Dean should be back sometime soon."

And then I could get clothes. _Clean_ clothes. He walked over to the small television and grabbed the remote before walking over to the other single bed supplied in the room. There were two single beds in the room, and I idly wondered how Sam could possibly be comfortable with them. I glanced back at his laptop, looking at the small icon at the bottom of the screen to see what time it was. Nearly nine o'clock in the morning. I turned back towards the television just in time to see the newscaster place a picture of me up in the corner. I groaned and closed my eyes, but it did nothing to stop the sound that carried through.

"…d for police question in regard to a fire. If you see this woman, please report call…" I didn't hear anymore because Sam had apparently turned the television off. Or changed stations. Or muted it. It didn't really matter.

"Sorry you had to hear that."

I shrugged heartlessly. What did it matter? "I'll never be able to go back there."

I heard him move but it wasn't until I felt the bed sink towards him that I realized he was sitting beside me. He put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned in towards him. I needed a hug. Tears blossomed in my eyes and I buried my head against his shoulders, fighting them. "You'll find something worthwhile wherever you end up," he said soothingly.

The sound of the door opening reached my ears followed by Sam pulling away and then I realized why. "Way to go Sammy!"

I pulled away slowly, turning to look at Dean Winchester. He was also tall, but not as tall as his brother. He had to be a couple inches over six feet. "You perverted bastard!" I shouted. "You're lucky I don't have anything to throw at you!"

"Could you even hit me if you tried?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Dean…" Sam started to say. I looked around and spotted the television remote lying on the bed that Sam had vacated. I marched over to it, and turned around to throw the thing at Dean. It flew towards his head but he reacted in time to catch it.

Sam's rich, deep laughter echoed around and I grinned and then started to laugh. Dean's expression of shock at my ability to throw was enough to appease me. He rolled his eyes and our laughter died down. I felt… young in that moment and I couldn't exactly explain why. Dean's unimpressed expression could have been it.

And then he seemed to notice the shirt that I was wearing underneath the unbuttoned trench coat. "That's my shirt," he said flatly, frowning at me. "What happened to your own?"

"It was bloody and you owe me clothes any way," I said in the silence that had descended.

He looked at me flatly. "No way. Not happening –I don't owe you anything."

I glowered at him, "You took me from my home. You burned my office down. You've humiliated me in this –this hideous garment!" I shouted, indicating the trench coat. "And now, you won't even buy me clothes! I have to walk around in filthy bloodied clothing! Do you have any idea of just how disgusting that is?" Something about him told me that he had a very good concept of what it was like to be stuck wearing bloodied clothing. "I'm wanted by the police for questioning because of you and I can _never_ go home again," I added miserably, my voice breaking on me.

"You do owe her, Dean," added Sam with a reproachful glance.

"Alright, _alright_ –just stop with your bitchin' and don't start cryin' on me."

I summoned a smile that was only tinged with sorrow. I was going to be able to be rid of this hideous coat and free from these lightly bloodied jeans. It was a very appealing prospect.

"Just clothes –I'm not buying you anything else," he stated. "And I want my shirt back afterwards."

I glanced at him, my happiness not fading for one single moment. The only time that going shopping made me happy, was when it wasn't my money that was being spent.

* * *

_You will not have to suffer through pages/paragraphs of reading about her shopping exploits. I'll sum it up in at least two paragraphs._

_I hope everyone is enjoying this so far._

_Next chapter: Carissa meets Castiel._

_Thank you for reading! _


	3. Dean's Rules and Everybody Rebels

Dean's Rules and Everyone Rebels

Shopping with Dean Winchester was an experience that I was unlikely to forget anytime soon. He ended up paying for an entire make-over essentially. I got new clothes, enough to last me a long while as well as a hair cut. But that hair cut included dying and straightening my hair for the day. We'd run into mall security a couple of times. Apparently people walking around in trench coats made them suspicious. I didn't take offense.

I bought a jacket that I fell in love with at first sight, and we cut the tags off and I grabbed another t-shirt that I had gotten Dean to buy for me and changed into it. And then I stuffed Dean's t-shirt as well as the trench coat into the same bag that I was carrying. I wasn't cruel enough to force Dean to carry my bags even if I thought he would. He was spending his money on me –I could carry my own bags. Someone would eventually notice that I was walking around the mall. The reason why I changed after my haircut.

We were about to leave the mall when Dean got a phone call. "Yeah? Cas?" there was a long pause and a partial chuckle. "We'll meet you at 4th and Doverly then in Broxton Georgia." He frowned for a moment and flipped his cell phone closed.

"We're meeting who…?"

"Cas is the guy who–"

"The guy with the bad fashion sense," I stated.

He paused, as he opened his cell and sent a message to someone. I assumed it was Sam. "Yeah," he said absently.

We made our way out towards his 1967 Chevrolet Impala, as I had come to learn it was called. I supposed it was a better name than "ancient tin can destined for recycling". Yeah it was shorter and flowed together better. But I was sure that if I thought about it long enough I could find a corresponding acronym for Impala. However nothing satisfactory came to mind and I decided to think about it some more. It would have made more of an impact if I had been able to come up with one offhand.

I handed him his shirt back, and he took it and placed it in the trunk before he got into the driver's seat. I was already waiting in the passenger seat with my bags spread before me. I had four, including the one that held the trench coat. I was a little disappointed that some of the blood on me and transferred to the thing because I would then have to explain to its owner about it. But since the owner seemed to be a hunter too from near as I could tell with what Dean had been saying it wouldn't be too bad.

He started up his global warming contributor car and we went off towards 4th and Doverly. He reached over to his stereo and popped a cassette in. As the Led Zeppelin music blasted through the enclosed space I looked over at him dubiously with a laugh, "You're like an old man. You should be older than dirt, I mean between what you drive and listen to…"

"Do you wanna walk?" he asked as the Impala rounded the curb while slowing down.

"I'll pass," I peeped cheekily.

"Don't insult me, or my car," he said gruffly, resuming the speed limit. "I won't feel bad making you walk."

And I believed him when he said it too. I fell into silence and I noticed that Dean was singing along –well as best as one can sing along to led Zeppelin. But I was fine with it, if it meant saving me from walking. When he pulled into a parking spot outside a small arch that read '_Hares Park_'. Personally I thought it was an odd meeting place unless the person was a lover of nature. I didn't think that Dean fit the profile.

I stuffed the empty plastic bag within another one as I got out of the car, draping the trench coat over my arm. After locking the Impala we headed into the park. It wasn't long until we came to a park bench where a middle aged man was waiting. He had a white dress shirt on with a tie and dark trousers with dress shoes. He looked like a shady figure despite his straight-laced appearance. It was something in the awkward way he was sitting and looking around. Yet although his clothing appeared neat, he had faint stubble along his jaw and his hair appeared to be ruffled as though he had constantly been running his hands through it.

"Hey Cas –this has got to be a first for you having me meet you somewhere."

He glanced towards me, and I stepped towards him. "Here's your coat. Thank you for lending it to me. Um, I'm afraid some of the uh, blood might have…"

He took the jacket from me, running his hands over the inside of the material and the blood –where I knew some had been –completely vanished. He put it on. "You're welcome."

"I'm going to need to take you shopping someday," I muttered, shaking my head. He didn't say anything despite our eye contact and the fact that I hadn't spoken quietly enough for him to have not heard me. "You have no fashion sense," I clarified.

"It poses no usefulness to me."

I paused for a moment, considering his words. "You want to be hassled by cops for the rest of your life?"

"They do not interfere with me."

"Really," I said skeptically. Today I had been stopped by mall security at least four times already. I'd had enough of being treated like a suspicious felon.

"Yes," he told me, turning to Dean who seemed mildly humored by this. "I did not want Sam to hear what I had to say. That is why I had you meet me."

That was certainly attention grabbing. "Since when do you care what he hears?"

"Since now."

Dean was silent for a moment and then he glanced over at me. "Can she hear it?"

"Does she know the situation?"

Again, that glance towards me. "No."

"I am right here you know. If you want to talk about me why don't you do it when I'm not standing here?"

Cas looked towards me, his blue eyes piercing mine. "Your anger management issues stem from your desire to conceal how much hu–"

"Screw you!" I shouted, interrupting him before he could continue. "I don't know who the _hell_ you think you are. But you have no right –_no_ right to do whatever you just did. To even speak it is –is unspeakable!" I snarled, angry at myself for my incoherency. I turned away, refusing to look at Cas. Whoever he was. "I'm waiting at the car," I growled, storming off.

It wasn't his business to know mine, let alone for him to share it. However he did it, I never wanted it to happen again. That arrogant bastard. Sure look into my mind or soul or whatever, and see what you would. You'd see hard work, love and ambition. Not just hurt and anger and facades to protect myself. No. I was more than that. Anyone could look "in" and see that but that didn't solely define me. I was more than my "issues" as some people might call them. Well I didn't need to explain myself. I kept my past to myself.

I looked at Dean's car as I stopped beside it. It was in good condition, shiny black with minimal dirt on it. But still it was definitely a polluter. Like all cars it polluted the atmosphere. Yet this was an old car, which meant it was less fuel efficient like all ancient cars. This ancient tin can destined for being recycled, was a massive polluter due to the many other copies that existed and the number that were driven. It was insane that because of all of these automobiles the world was being corrupted.

I paused at this moment. The acronym that I was certain Impala had to stand for… it suddenly came to me.

I. Insanely

M. Massive

P. Pollutant

A. Acrid

L. Lame

A. Automobile

I was hopeful that it wouldn't take Dean too long to finish talking with the arrogant jerk. I wanted to leave. I had gotten a make-over and new clothes. I was set to last right now. But I still had no idea at all in regards to what I would be doing with my life considering I had to start over. Sam suggested a fresh start. It was no more appealing now than it had been this morning. I wanted my old life back, and I knew that I would never reach that same level of peace.

Not to mention I had yet to digest the fact that every creature I had been told wasn't real, actually existed and that people hunted them. What could I ever hope to do with that information? I wouldn't be able to let it go and just adjust to it. One day I would have children –how could I expect to tell them not to be afraid of the dark or the monsters when I was?

To be honest, earlier today I hadn't given it much thought. Everything had been happening so quickly. I sighed and shifted impatiently. I still didn't know what to do with the knowledge that vampires and werewolves and ghosts and whatever else existed. I knew that I believed in them now and I didn't doubt Sam or Dean as hunters. Something about their manners, about how they just were made it completely real.

Dean showed up them, passing under the arch with a troubled expression. If he'd been any taller he would've had to duck in order to not hit his head. A disadvantage of height. I noticed that the trench coat wearer wasn't with him. I was grimly satisfied to see that he wasn't present. Dean glanced at me, seemingly surprised that I was waiting at the Impala. I had nowhere else to go. Or was he expecting me to just vanish and leave him alone? It didn't really matter.

He walked over and unlocked the Impala, getting into the driver's seat as I got into the passenger's. We set off down the road. It wouldn't be long until we got back to the motel. It would be nice to see Sam. He was the only nice guy out of the three of them. Perverted bastard, arrogant bastard in a suspicious trench coat with no fashion sense and Sam the nice guy.

Dean flicked on his Led Zeppelin cassette again and I stifled a sigh. Pathetic music in a lame vehicle with some guy who was like an old geezer. Obsessed with old cars and old music and probably young women. He was a perverted bastard after all so that was probably more true than not. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a rose which he then handed towards me, only sparing me a glance. We were at a stoplight at the moment. The rose made me think of Nico. He was always talking about the meanings of flowers and such. He liked yellow roses because they represented passion and joy, even the flip side of romance being that of jealousy.

Dean's rose was peach colored. I think Nicolai had once said that it had something to do with amorality. But that was Nico and I lived in this world. I tentatively reached out to take the rose. "Why are giving this to me?" This was a really long stoplight.

"I just wanted to show this rose what true beauty is," he told me, green eyes twinkling.

"You –" I threw the rose at his face. "You perverted bastard! Do you think I'm some sort of cheap bar slut with self-esteem issues that will settle for a thirty year old man going on fifty who hits on anything with a pulse!" I yelled. "And what kind of a god-awful line is that you-you ugh!" He was a pig! "I'm not going to ride with you in this-this ancient tin can!"

"She's a 1967 Impala –you can't insult her."

Why was that light _still_ red? Did the town break down or something? "You know what Impala stands for?" I demanded, not waiting for his reply. "It stands for insanely massive pollutant acrid lame automobile! Its garbage destined to destroy this planet and then be recycled!"

"If you're going to keep insulting my car, you can walk!"

"I'd rather walk than be stuck in this tin can with you!" I shouted, fumbling to unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Then you can just walk to the motel can you?"

"I know the shitty ass thing's address and I can get there on my two feet without being harassed by men older than dirt!"

My hands found the door handle and I yanked on it, stumbling out of the vehicle. I didn't even look at Dean as I slammed the door closed. The light had finally turned green but the town was small enough that there was no traffic flowing behind him so he didn't have to leave immediately. The annoyances. "Then don't come cryin' to me if you get in some sort of trouble!"

"Just leave me alone!" I shouted, storming off down the sidewalk. That perverted bastard! He couldn't even bother to leave me alone! Something I thought he might have been good at. Clearly I was mistaken.

* * *

That little bitch had better not get herself into trouble. If she did, he would never hear the end of it. Sammy sure as hell wouldn't let him forget and neither would she. God though, that girl was one hell of a livewire. Was there no warning when she was going to explode? He tapped against the steering wheel. He was going to have to tell Sammy something about where that girl went. He'd gotten chewed out enough today and he wasn't going to take it from Sam when he hadn't done a single thing to that chick.

Sure he'd tried to pick her up, but solely to get her mind off of whatever Cas had seen into her about. And thinking of Castiel that brought about his issues. So he'd been hearing about some other mythological creatures that had been extinct for a couple eons coming back to life. Which would mean more trouble for hunters. Yet there was something peculiar about the mythological creatures appearing that Cas didn't want Sammy to hear about because he would come to an incorrect solution. Since when had Cas decided to become so difficult? Right. Since he was an angel and that was all those pesky bastards ever did was interfere.

He pulled into the motel parking lot. The million dollar question was on how he would tell Sammy that the chick had gone and run off. He got out of his Impala and gently closed the door after making sure it was locked. She really had some sort of issue with his Impala though. Then again, most females just had an under appreciation for a man's ride. He scoffed; she'd called his baby a tin can. No, she was beyond that. She shared no relations with cheap cans. His Impala was so much more than that. Chicks all had to learn that a man's ride was important to him, and especially if it was a classic like the Impala.

He went into the motel that they had rented rooms from, and made his way to room four. He opened the door to find his little brother back at his laptop. "Hey Sammy." His little brother glanced back towards him, eyes narrowing quickly at the lack of their "guest". "I got some news that you can either take in a good way or a bad way."

"Dean…" Sam started to say warningly.

"She bailed on _me._ Decided to walk back here. Man, your girlfriend is one livewire."

Sammy paused. "So you left her on the street?"

"Uh, well it's a nice day and all and she _wanted_ to walk."

"Seriously Dean? After what just happened to her you let her walk?" he demanded. If someone yelled at him one more time… he was going to snap. He took a breath with the intention of responding to his brother's comment. When he looked up, he was gone. What the hell was with these people?

* * *

_Happy Birthday to my friend who's been helping with a few places and especially around Dean speech which I was so worried I was botching, and with Sam replies because I had some trouble with them._

_I hope Carissa's freakouts aren't annoying anyone. She will have her moments of remorse for her actions and even eventually get some control over her temper if I uphold the story long enough. Which at this moment seems highly probable. _

_I absolutely love feedback. It makes my day to see that someone has reviewed. Not that watches or favoriting is lesser in any way. _

_Hope you like the story!_

_Have a great day!_

_Also in case I don't complete chapter four in time, there will be a period of five days for which I am going to be busy. Super busy. So my next update, or the one after that, may take a while. I'll try to keep my update weekly, but that's not limited to updating several chapters in one week. At least just once a week._


	4. Unsung Heroes of Today and Tomorrow

Unsung Heroes of Today and Tomorrow

I figured that I had probably overreacted to Dean but I didn't really care. I had stopped to sit at a bus stop, not that I would have been able to catch a ride. I had no money on me. I'd been walking for a while already and although I knew where the motel was, I was more certain of the fact that I was nowhere near it. Not the best idea to be walking to someplace that I had no idea of how to get to. It was a little frustrating. But I was stubborn in the fact that I would most certainly get to the motel eventually. I supposed that it would probably be a bad idea to be wandering in this tiny town at nighttime regardless of the size. There would still be creeps out there.

And monsters.

I was beginning to wonder at the specifics about these creatures, but I had no one to ask. I wasn't sure that even if Dean or the trench coat man were here, if I would ask them. I knew that I should have asked them, were they there, but I didn't want to. I didn't like being angry. It just… it just happened. I got angry and then my temper exploded. I was going to have to work on it; I'd known that for years but it had never really made me want to change. My anger was probably a self defense mechanism and it was comfortable.

I sighed. If I was going to find that motel anytime soon, I had better be going. I didn't want to be out after night. I had the rest of the afternoon and evening to go through though. And this was a small town, so I had a good chance at finding my way back. Eventually.

I got up from the bench, stretching. I didn't even have the faintest idea of what time it was. I couldn't estimate how long Dean had left or how long I'd been walking. But I knew that it was a long while and I was starting to feel. Great way to keep in shape, walking to work, but you got used to that distance and that pace. It was going to be a lot more walking today, at my usual pace but I didn't usually walk this much.

I headed down the street, hoping that if I kept in this direction it would lead me to the more business area of town. That would be where I needed to go to get to the motel. Near where traffic from Florida would enter from. And where Dean had left me, I was under the impression, was that it was near the exit of town. So I had a fair bit of ground to cover.

As I continued to walk, I noticed an approaching motorcyclist who flew right on past me. I wouldn't have thought anything of it except for the fact that on the back of the rider's leather jacket was a large white skull with specters coming out of it. And words were written underneath it: Ghostkeeper. I frowned; it seemed a peculiar name for any sort of biker gang. Not that he necessarily was, but it was odd anyway. I watched as the rider veered down a side street and disappeared.

I eventually reached that street that he'd gone down and I was horrified when I looked down it, to notice that it was dead end. And there was no sign of an accident at all. Which was just plain weird. That rider had never left that alley. And that left a very important question –where did he go? No one disappeared into thin air –except maybe monsters. But could monsters disguise themselves as humans? Obviously vampires could and werewolves but… what about everything else? I didn't understand this as much as I should have and I felt torn because of it. I needed to have a better grasp on this. I wanted to say there was a rational explanation, but there wasn't.

His motorcycle wasn't there, leaning up against a building or wall, which would have indicated that he entered one of those houses. There was no garbage bin nearby. There was no blood. There wasn't anything. So where did he go? I couldn't find an explanation and it seemed that a cold breeze blew out from the side street and I shivered involuntarily and hurried away from it. That was just creepy. And it was most likely just a figment of my imagination.

But that same little paranoid voice that spoke up so rarely came up. What if… it _wasn't_ part of my imagination? Then I was pretty sure that I was screwed. I was already lost, to be blunt. I knew what town I was in and I could have even supplied the very street that I was walking down, but I couldn't know that I was on the right path to the motel. I would have to get to the mall first. From there, I had a vague idea of where to continue to.

I hadn't yet found the mall. I was beginning to wish that I'd paid closer attention to my surroundings. I wasn't such an excellent multitasker that I could have a conversation with someone, over how loud and annoying their distracting music was, that I could keep in my mind where I was. No. I didn't have a GPS system built into my brain. Nor did I possess a cell phone that had one. Either way it would have my life easier. Just a little bit. I could have figured out where to go from that. If I'd run into someone that didn't look dangerous or scary, I would have asked them but it was like the town was a ghost town. Just a shadow of what it had once been.

There were more buildings boarded up than open. And the traffic was very small and light, unhurried as though they had all the time in the world. People on the street however had a certain mean look about them. At least to me they did, so it could also have just been my imagination. Or not. But I wasn't about to spend ages trying to define whether my head was playing tricks on me or not. I'd just keep going on with what I was doing.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly reached me and I looked around several times before defining who it was that was speaking to me. I'd been hopeful that it was the voice in my head, and not the guy running towards me. Anyone else. But it was a mean looking residence of this town. "You look lost."

I looked at him, half afraid and half irritated. "Was it that obvious?" I asked, cutting down on the sarcasm in my tone. Polite. Be polite.

"Well not really," he responded lightly. "You were just kind of meandering and looking a little dejected might I add."

I noticed that he was wearing a black leather jacket with the same picture and caption as the other Ghostkeeper I had seen vanish. I swallowed tightly, not wanting to mention anything about that. His eyes although a nice shade of brown, were oddly cold. He even had a posture that was intimidating, although he was just barely taller than me; he carried himself with a dangerous persona. And when someone had a front like that, they were usually just as dangerous as they pretended to be if not more.

I glanced at him, "Being lost can do that to a person."

"So you are –?"

"Not necessarily," I countered. "I'm heading in approximately the right direction." Why was I doing this? Something about these people made me distrustful. Unreasonably so. I could get directions from this guy! So why was I avoiding the point?

"Towards…"

"The mall. And from there towards a motel."

"Tourist?"

"Briefly."

"Which motel? Maybe I can point you towards it more accurately…?" Was there something even remotely suggestive in his voice…? I couldn't be sure. But if there was…

"Um I think it was called key something-or-other."

He nodded, his coal black hair bouncing. "Yeah the Keivon –that's the motel you're staying at?"

"Mhm," I said. "Where is it?" I smiled brightly. Maybe I was looking a little forced today but that was alright with me. I really did not like this guy. I wanted to get over talking with him as soon as I could.

He pointed down the street, and I caught sight of a tattoo against the back of his hand. It was in black ink from what I could see of it, and the design was quite intricate and certainly both eye catching and unusual. "You want to get to Raven Street, over there, and you're going to have to follow it all the way until Richmond Avenue where you need to turn left and keep going." He glanced back at me, smiling a smile that reached his chocolate brown eyes. "You've got one heck of a walk. I don't envy you at all."

"Thank you so much!" I beamed, hoping to remember his words.

"If you're ever in Broxton Georgia, you should try out View Derlb's alcohol. It's excellent. And maybe, once you've had a taste of it, you might decide to ask around for Cailtan Sufre." He winked, "I'll be sure to come and offer you my greetings."

I looked at him skeptically. "I doubt I'll be back here anytime soon, but if I am and I remember it, I'll give it a shot," I lied flat out. No way would I ever do that. And first off who had even heard of that alcohol? Secondly, what kind of a name was Cailtan Sufre? It could have been a girl's name for all I knew. Thirdly this town was way too weird for me to handle. No. If I had any choice in the matter, I would not be coming back here. _Ever._

"Awesome. Well I look forward to seeing you again, alright?" he tipped his hand towards me and I realized that he was looking beyond me and I followed his gaze to see Sam Winchester approaching. I don't think I could have been happier to see him. He picked the perfect time. I loved nice men with a sense of timing. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn't care. "Looks like you've been found!" he said. "Lost things always find a way home. Remember me, and I will see you around." And then he finally left.

These people were all too strange and mean looking for me. So I judged them by looks, but with scowling faces, leather jackets and tattoos the majority of these people were not ones I wanted to talk to. They seemed much more suited to being the people that I left alone. I didn't care that Caitlyn had left. Sam was here. I could get to the motel. That's what was important.

"Thank god you're alright," he said, coming to stop before me.

"Thank the heavens you're here," I responded, completely relieved. I instantly felt safer and more relived. A possible effect of his height. And the fact that the creeper Caitlyn was gone. Could there be anyone creepier in existence?

"You shouldn't have ditched –no matter how annoying Dean is; he's not worth your life."

I paused, looking shamefully down at my feet. He did have a very good point there. "So do I call this the second time that you've saved my life or what?" I asked, half smiling as I looked up at him. He frowned disapprovingly. I sighed. "I overreacted, and I know that. A million different things could have happened to me, but you came here in time to prevent a murder." Whether I was referring to my own or someone else's I wasn't sure. "The trench coat man had pissed me off, and then Dean handed me a rose and I got thinking about Nico and I hope he's OK and then your lame brother used the lamest pick up line I had ever heard. So I overreacted…."

"So long as you're alright is what matters."

He was so sweet. I liked Sam, more than either of the people I had met today. "How did you manage to find me?"

He shrugged, "Left the motel with the intention of arriving at 4th and Doverly."

So I was going the right way. "How far is it back to the motel?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take."

I glanced at him. With his height and long steps, I could probably double that time. "Is Dean… mad?" I probably shouldn't have cared. He deserved what I called him. His car maybe not so much. It was a smooth ride. But it was not fuel efficient. That was my grudge against his Impala.

"No. He'd be angry if you got hurt or into trouble though."

I paused, wondering if I should mention about the strange motorcyclist who disappeared into thin air. It was Sam that I was talking to, and even if it was just my imagination, I was fairly certain that he wasn't the type of person to bring up constantly. "Um, I did see something unusual though." And I told him about the Ghostkeeper motorcyclist.

We were walking down the street and I made sure to follow Sam. It was a comfort to know that I was going the right way. I glanced at the street names, noticing that none of them were anything like what Caitlyn had said. Er Cailtan. I think that was it. His name wasn't that important to me at all. And Sam was still considering on whether or not it was a figment of my imagination. I wondered at just how many creatures there were that he had to counter check with to try and determine what if the motorcyclist was fake or not.

I had noticed that none of the street names matched up with what Cailtan had said they were. Not once did I see a Raven Street or Richmond Avenue. If I had followed his directions, where would I have ended up at? Most likely someplace I was grateful to avoid.

"I'm sorry Carissa, but I can't think of anything that would do what that… Ghostkeeper did."

"It's alright," I said with a comfortable shrug. "Probably just my imagination." I noticed his hesitation as he looked away, almost as though he was physically preventing himself from saying whatever it was that he wanted to. "What?" I asked him cautiously, holding out the vowel. It didn't strike me as a good thing that he was hesitant over saying something and I felt entitled to know, just as much as I knew that he didn't have to answer me and that I wouldn't push him further. I may have felt entitled to know, but it was up to him if he would tell me or not.

He sighed quietly, "Often enough, what you cast off as imagination tends to be all too real." He glanced towards me then, concerned, "Not that I'm trying to instill a fear of this in you or anything."

I chuckled weakly, "I'm already scared enough of it. I don't think that I can exceed my fear at this moment."

His wry chuckle echoed, "Oh yeah, you'd be surprised to find out just how much _worse_ things can be."

I was quiet for a moment as we walked on. I wondered at what the two brothers had faced. I didn't want to know what they had faced together and how much worse things got than this. Jumping at shadows, doubting at what you just saw as being a figment or real. Was I just supposed to assume that everything was real? Assume that whatever I thought I had imagined was real? I'd find myself in a mad house that way before I could say "boo". I didn't think I would survive it.

"How do you guys… hold up against all this… evil?"

"I suppose you just… get used to it eventually. I take comfort from the good that we get out of it. We help people, save lives and all."

"The unsung heroes huh?"

"I guess you could call us that."

"Or the crazy men?" I mocked. "You guys are brave and strong for not going crazy with all this crap looming around you wherever you go. You work a self-sacrificing job that pays nothing except in people calling you lunatics. Your reward is saving them, being enough for you. Don't you ever want more? Some acknowledgment or something?"

Sam seemed to consider my question for a long moment, "Not really. I think life's easier without it. I mean if people knew who we were, whenever we stopped in a town someone would say that something was going on and we'd be sent to investigate and possibly left on a wild goose chase. Not only that, demons would be able to find us easier. And there's enough recognition out there if you know where to look."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Dean doesn't seem like the kind of person to be doing this job."

"He's nicer than he seems."

I would have to disagree with Sam. Maybe Dean was different with people he got along with but I would have to say that we definitely didn't get along. We were too something, alike or different, I didn't care to analyze which at this point in time. It would be disturbing and shameful if I had to realize that we were alike, so I was going to be ignorant about whichever it was. For as long as I could anyways.

* * *

_I give my thanks to my mapper for helping me with my next chapter, and I hope your birthday was a good one._

_Again, I'm going to be busy for this weekend and the following one. _

_Next chapter: Sisters in Retaliation._

_Hope you enjoy! And special thanks to _DanniMitchell85_ for her wonderful reviews. _


	5. Sisters in Retaliation

Sisters in Retaliation

"I told you already," I growled irritably over _Rock of Ages_ that was playing in the background, "that I'm sorry I ditched you and that I insulted your car. Enough already."

Dean was still looking at me doubtfully. I had already apologized to him several times now. "I just want to remember this apology for the rest of my life."

"Oh yeah, blackmail me, how unoriginal," I scoffed dryly.

"Just personal satisfaction –you understand."

I rolled my eyes. We were heading off to another town already, having left Broxton Georgia far behind. I was sitting in the back of the Impala, and Sam was dozing in the passenger seat. My conversation with Dean had been going on for a while now. I couldn't quite explain how I'd ended up with them again, but I still had no idea what to do with my life anyways.

When Sam and I had gotten back to the motel, Dean had already packed up everything and informed us that we were heading off to another town. He'd gotten word from someone named Bobby that there was something strange going on at Albany. Dean hadn't specified so I wasn't certain what was going on. I just knew that I was tagging along and that it would give me a better understanding of their world. Or rather the new world that I had just stepped into blindly.

And it wasn't as though I could tagalong behind these two forever. They had their own lives, with hunting monsters. I had no life. I had nowhere else to be. If I had thought they were letting me stay with them out of pity, I might have been offended and decided to leave. Not that I had anywhere to go. But I might have tried. If anything it seemed like the two brothers were amused by my presence.

"Dean," I said quietly.

"Mm?"

"Have you ever wished to do something different? Something other than hunting?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's the family business," he replied gruffly. "And someone has to do it. If everyone quit to do what they wanted to do, no one would be doing this job."

"You don't love it either," I observed. "But you're happier with it than Sam is."

He was quiet for a moment, "Sammy's always wanted something other than this life. I've always accepted that there was nothing I'd rather do."

"I chose to be a daycare worker," I explained. "I liked children, and business was well suited to me. So I pursued my career. And ended up here."

"There are worse places than being in the back of an Impala, bound for Albany Georgia."

I smirked, "Like being in the back of a car, on its way to a town full of monsters? Of which I know nothing about?"

"Details."

Silence drifted through the car again. "Is that what your life's like?"

"You lookin' to be a hunter or somethin'?" he asked skeptically.

I looked at him through the rear view mirror. "I've got nothing to lose. I've no family, no home, and no life. I have nothing. I just found out that the world is full of monsters. Do I have any better options?"

"A nice padded room, where they feed and clothe you," he joked.

I rolled my eyes. "No one can call me insane and make me believe it, when I'm with two other guys who believe it. I'm not alone and I'm not crazy if I'm here."

"There's probably a couple million people that won't care. And they'll call you crazy and you'll come cryin' home." He sighed, "Besides, most hunters are trained since childhood."

I said nothing for a moment, contemplating my words carefully. "I'm considering it, Dean. That's all."

"You get to a conclusion, let Sam know first."

"Why?"

"I think he's got the right to know whether you're going to risk your life in the near future or not."

"Isn't being with you guys risking my life?" I asked softly.

"We can protect you, if need be."

"While I make my decision?" I asked hesitantly. He nodded. "And I guess if I choose this, that you'll help me out?"

He didn't say anything and I let the silence descend. I didn't mind it too much. And anyways I couldn't expect these two to always look after me. I didn't think that their job would let them get away with it. They had to be concerned about each other as partners and fight monsters together. They were used to their own paces. I might just throw a hitch into things if I came by and tried to help. But if there was nothing else on this earth that I could do, no other life I could see doing, then this was what I would do. I didn't want to end up in a madhouse like I'd told Dean. And if I spent my time with them, saw what they saw and knew what they knew, then I would be OK.

I wouldn't be crazy. I wouldn't flinch at every shadow. I would know if that shadow was something dark and evil lurking there to kill me or someone else. I would be sane with them, as I probably would never be able to be with anyone else. And I didn't care if they made me stay back and do paperwork or something in relation to this job of theirs. So long as I could help. So long as I knew that I wasn't crazy.

I sighed and shuffled towards the window behind the passenger's seat. It was late evening and I was feeling a little tired. I leaned my head against my shoulder, not trusting the seemingly smooth highway. There would be bumps and I would rather not have my head smashed against the window. It was painful. At most my head might bump against the window, but it wouldn't be as painful. I let my eyes drift shut, wondering what Albany Georgia would bring.

I didn't have long to wait for seeing what the town held. When Dean drove through, the entrance way featured a perfect statue of a young man and woman in a tender embrace. It was little eerie with how detailed the statue was. Right down to every little crease in clothing. A beautiful statue definitely, and very talented artist that I almost wanted to pay my respects to. As me drove down the town, we saw a few other statues on the street, and some of them were quite disturbing. I saw another couple as a statue, with he same eerie precision. They were holding hands and looking at each other lovingly. It was amazingly detailed. But still disturbing.

Dean whistled softly, "I see what Bobby meant."

I looked at him through the rear view mirror. "What did he say?" Not to mention, but who was he?

"Couples have been going missing, and the day after they're reported, they appear as a statue."

I wished that I could have asked if he was joking. I swallowed tightly and looked away. Somehow the statues seemed even more disturbing to me now. "What's happened to them?"

"They get turned into statues," he replied.

"No, I mean… what could turn them into statues in the first place? And why only couples?"

"Could be some jealous demon's sucking out their souls and sending the bodies off to get made into scenery."

"Why?"

He glanced back at me, "This job doesn't do well with whys." He looked forward again and pulled into a motel parking lot. "Y'see… You don't want to know why a demon does what it does. It does it, and you gank it. That's it. Straightforward."

I nodded. I guess it didn't matter _why_ a demon was sucking someone's soul out and then shipping the bodies to an artist to sculpt. It was disgusting and evil. It would be better to stop them than let innocent people get killed. It was straightforward in a way. But… I didn't know if it could be possible that there were good demons and bad ones? I had so many questions and I was getting the feeling that I wouldn't be finding my answers from the demon hunters. I'd have to come to a decision by myself.

We got out of the Impala; Sam was already awake. I wondered if he'd ever actually _been_ asleep. "Carissa, you check us into the motel. I'll go see if anyone knows somethin' about this artist. Come on Sammy," he said, handing me a credit card. "Don't use our real names –you'll be reported."

"And so will we," Sam added. I glanced at him, concerned. "Comes with the job."

Dean hastily told me the password for the credit card before he and his brother left to wherever they were bound. I got left to take their bags in. They helped get their duffle bags out, with my plastic bags and then despite Sam's protests, I was left to enter the motel.

Use a fake name? Great. What names could I possibly use? I entered the building which was of better quality than the one in Broxton. And it seemed less creepy too. I headed to the check-in desk, where a young lady looked up. She wore plain brown glasses that fit her nicely, and her long golden-blonde hair was tied back and draped over her shoulder. I missed my long hair.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like three rooms for the night," I said, hoping that whatever Dean and Sam got themselves into would be over quickly enough. If not I supposed they could just pay for more. Hopefully.

"You know each room comes with two beds, yes?"

"Eh no. I'm sorry I've never really been much of a traveler. My cousins usually take care of arranging things like this." Cousins? I winced internally. It was the first thing to come to mind. Oops.

"Will that be in cash or…?" I handed her the credit card.

I wrote down the password Dean had told me, praying I got it right. And when everything went smoothly, I was asked to check us in. Hesitantly I wrote down _Pete Willis_, which was Sam, _Nancy Hart, _obviously me –would've been great if Dean had to suffer with that name and _Tony Kenning _for Dean.

She then handed me two room keys, and I headed upstairs with everything. I felt like some sort of slave. I shoved the key into the room that would end up being Sam and Dean's and I tossed their duffle bags on each bed, not caring whose was whose. I then locked the door and went to the room beside theirs, where I set my bags down and took a relieved sigh to have my arms free. I locked my door as I left it. They hadn't said that I wasn't able to leave or anything. Then again, even if they had, I'm not sure if I would have listened.

I went back downstairs, and headed outside. The Impala was still there, but there was no sign of either of the Winchesters. I scanned down the street, looking for something promising and I spotted a small clothing store. They clothes appeared unique, and I didn't need anymore, but I was intrigued and headed over to see about them. I still had Dean's credit card and he was lucky that it wasn't burning a hole in my pocket. I'd give it back when he asked for it.

I entered the boutique, a bell signaling my entrance. There were only two other customers present in the store and then there was the cashier woman looking a little frazzled. The two other customers were looking through some shirts in a bin, hassling over it by appearance. I went to the other side of the store. I didn't ask for trouble. It just snuck up on me most times.

I scanned through the hats, well aware that I was not a hat person. I looked terrible in nearly every hat that I'd ever tried on. I was more of a scarf person. They were better suited to me and I couldn't explain why. But it was too warm in the year to be wearing them. I moved past the scarves, examining a couple of shirts critically. I was browsing, but there was the one shirt that I almost wanted to buy. Almost. Sadly, I wasn't a person to carelessly waste money on any whim. I would have loved to do that if it ticked Dean off. I let it go though.

He was going to help me for the time and so far didn't seem to be adamantly against me helping him and his brother out though I couldn't have said why. I wasn't about to ask. I was too grateful. He had let me come with him here. That was him, and not Sam. Although maybe the younger brother had some influence over Dean, it was up to the driver in the end for who he let ride with him. And I was grateful that he'd bought the clothes for me and even gotten me that make over. I'd gone from having long black hair to barely shoulder length bleached hair. I was a blonde and I hated every last minute of it. I had loved my lengthy black hair. Now I was short haired and blonde of all things. People said blondes had more fun? I disagreed. I had more fun being natural.

I made my way towards the two girls who were still at the same bin, still searching through the shirts available. I couldn't help but notice that they had dreadlocks for hair. Plain, brown dreadlocks. I couldn't repress a shudder. I _hated_ dreadlocks. They were disgusting, for how long they could remain in a person's hair and how they were not cleaned. They were the perfect conditions for lice to blossom. As a child, I'd once contracted lice from a fellow classmate with dreadlocks. I can't quite say that I could forgive them for the painful processes I'd gone through. Which started with chopping off my hair, because it was too long and interfered with the treatment of lice. Not so much, but it just made getting rid of them more difficult so my parents had it chopped off.

I went to walk by them, very cautiously and careful to not disturb them. As I passed them however, one of the two shifted. She stepped out slightly and I jostled against her, muttering a quick apology. Apparently that wasn't good enough for her, or her companion.

"Watch it!" she snarled.

"God, you're a total klutz," scoffed the one I had bumped into.

I rolled my eyes, and would have happily kept on my way except that the two of them decided to stand in front of me. Blocking my exit. I tensed, looking between them. They looked rough and tumble and ready to fight. With dreadlocks, torn jeans and jean jackets as well as bronze gloves on their hands. An awful style but one nonetheless.

"You can't just get away like that."

"Such a snob, thinking you can just leave without apologizing?" she demanded with a disdainful scoff.

"I said I was sorry," I growled. I didn't want to make a fuss here. Sam and Dean had work to do here. I was going to honor that as best I could. I didn't want to make things more difficult. I wanted to understand the job of hunting. Somehow I got the feeling that creating problems wouldn't help anyone.

"You have such an attitude," snarled the other. "I just asked for an apology."

"Not like she asked for the world on a silver dish."

I took a small breath. I would do better to waste my patience on someone worthwhile. These two were such… nuisances. I couldn't say that there was anyone in this life that was more annoying at this moment. "Get out of my way," I told them darkly.

"Not happenin' until I see some honesty in that apology."

I looked up at the nearest woman, and met her gaze with my own fiery one. "Why should I apologize to someone with hair infested by lice that's just waiting for a vulture to descend and eat?" I cocked my head to the side, looking at her abstractly. "Mind you, you don't look very appealing. I'm sure even a bird might think twice before eating you." And then, in their moment of stunned anger, I strode right past them. And with quick steps, I left the boutique, not waiting for their reactions. Apparently most people didn't mess with them. Then again they didn't look like the kind of people easy to mess with.

I heard their shrieks of rage, and I booted it. I could hear the pounding steps behind me, following right along. I was aiming for the motel. But then I saw Dean, and bless his height, he was just getting something from the Impala. "Dean!" I cried, launching towards him. My heavy steps pounded against the pavement.

"Wha-?" he saw the two people chasing after me and stood alert. "How the hell'd you piss 'em off?"

"I might've… said something about their dreads being lice infested fodder for a bird?" I panted as I stepped behind him.

He glanced at me, "What do you think you're doing?"

"You said you'd protect me. You and Sam could. While I decided and all…"

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly but said nothing. I suspected that he'd muttered something about having also agreed to this, but I didn't know what he meant. The two women stopped just before the Impala, and I figured they were eyeing Dean suspiciously.

"She insulted my sister Eurale."

"She insults everyone," Dean countered, trying to be reasonable about this. Something told me that they weren't about to let it go with that.

"We don't tolerate it."

Dean glanced down at me, "You know that getting into fights is a good way to attract unwanted attention."

"Why else would I start them?"

He turned towards the two women who were drawing closer to us. I could still see them, and I wasn't exactly trying to hide behind Dean or anything. "Just hand her over and we'll be out of your way. She'll be out of your hair too," purred the one woman, pulling off her sunglasses. As far as I was concerned the two women were the same.

"She only ever insults people; I mean honestly, what good _is_ she?"

It seemed like Dean was agreeing with them. Nodding along with their words. I eyed him suspiciously. I mean sure we didn't get along. At all. But he wouldn't sell me out to them… would he?

"She can't even understand the Impala."

"She's only here to take your brother away from you. She'll be just like Ruby, Dean. Here to take your Sammy away and turn him against you."

I froze and looked between them. What? What were they saying? There was something alluring in their tones that made even me want to believe them. But I couldn't –no I wouldn't believe whatever they spoon fed me. Dean had that much sense surely.

I glanced up at him. Something in his eyes was wrong. "It would serve her right for getting into a fight with two residents of the city, so why don't you just step away from her Dean?"

Why did they know his name? Why did they even know Sam's name? "Dean," I said hesitantly, putting strength into my words.

He didn't say anything, but he did move. Towards the back of the Impala. Which was away from me. And it seemed like I wasn't the only one who thought that it meant he was giving me up to them. With a triumphant hiss the two of them moved closer towards me. Was it just my imagination… or did their hair seem to be…writhing? Hair didn't do that. And their eyes. Absolutely bewitching.

"Dean!" I called, stepping back from them. "Dean please!"

"She has nothing to offer you –a useless tagalong."

They kept moving towards me –and Dean had stopped doing anything. "Dammit!" I cursed, stepping back from them. Eventually I would be out of room.

But to my amazement one of the two moved towards Dean, who seemed to slowly be regaining some sense. He stepped closer to the Impala –was his goddamn car that freaking important to him? He'd let me die for it? Well I certainly felt betrayed.

"Come Stheno, we can finally make a well deserved killing," crooned Eurale.

"Ah, dear sister just what we wished for too. A lovely young lady."

"Although she's lacking in a partner and manners… I'm sure we can work something out."

"What?" I asked dumbly, maneuvering to keep distance between us and yet still be close to Dean. What was wrong with him exactly?

"Oh so you don't know, well you're not such a smarty-pants after all," cackled Stheno.

"Our artwork adorns this city," snickered the other.

I had no idea who was who, and I didn't really care to know which clone was which. They were the same as far as I was concerned. One of the sisters approached towards me. "And our spies watch everyone. I mean what with the powers of hypnotism; you can get anyone to do anything. And I mean _anything._"

"We've had married men petrified in the embrace of a woman they've hated all their lives. Well it suits them. The uglier the true feeling, the stronger the masked one."

"What kind of sick logic is that?" I cried, disgust rippling through my being. "Taking a happy couple and tricking the other partner into believing their spouse has been unfaithful?" It was appalling.

"It's what this world deserves and it's just what we need."

"A little disloyalty, a smidgen of distrust and sprinkled with jealousy. Mm, I know that sweet scent anywhere. I _love_ it."

What was wrong with these people? I couldn't talk to them. And their dreadlocks, I had been staring at them, really were writhing. Like it was some sort of live, moving mass. And a sound was beginning to reach my ears, like the gasping rattle of something dying perhaps. Not quite, there was consistency in how it was getting louder the closer as these two approached me. I noticed that one of the sisters had kept her sunglasses on and was idly adjusting them. Their styles were completely random and far from fashionable.

Jean clothing, bronze gloves, dreadlocks and sunglasses. It was strange, for sure. I glanced towards Dean who I was working on walking around. "So he's hypnotized?"

"Of course. A hunter like him against us? We just got out of Tartarus, and we're not about to go back. Need to do a little feasting and then, then we can turn this world into our own gallery, isn't that right Eurale?" Eurale was the one then, wearing sunglasses.

"We're fanatics of art. And you'll make a lovely addition, writhing on the floor in agony!" Eurale lunged towards me, her gloves gleaming metallically in the light.

I realized a little too late that her gloves were her weapons. They slashed right through my plain long sleeved shirt, digging into my flesh and I felt my knees buckle as a cry of pain escaped me. Why hadn't anyone heard this and come running? Obviously Dean was hypnotized… Or did the sister mean that it was the entire town that was under her control? I swallowed tightly.

"The myths never get the story right. I mean so Perseus killed Medusa, our sister. He died with time and we waited in Tartarus. We've come out a couple of times. But some accounts say we died. Little girl," growled Stheno, "we're immortal. We don't die."

"We might go to Tartarus to recover, our Father's land, but we come back. A couple of thousand years maybe. This world was ours first, and it still is. We hold claim. Even if you think we're gone, one day you'll die and another we'll come back. You won't be here to admire our marvelous artwork."

"We're not able to be killed. I could paralyze you with my snakes' venom," Eurale stated, running a hand over her hideous dreadlocks. And the illusion, at least for me, faded away to reveal that they were not dreadlocks. But large fat snakes, writhing and hissing. They were _alive_. I swallowed tightly. "or I could turn you into stone. Into artwork. But you're not in a suitable position yet."

Stheno slammed her bronze fist against the small of my back and I dropped to the ground face first, my hands just barely stopping my face plant with the pavement. So this city was theirs. But I had Dean and Sam, unless they'd already gotten to Sam too. I glanced towards Dean, still standing there frozen, still guarding his stupid car. I saw his eyes move and it was obvious that he was fighting against whatever spell they'd put him under, but I could do nothing to help. And neither could he.

"We're getting closer. But first I was to see some pain, Sthen. She's too… resilient."

Cold metal grabbed the back of my neck, hauling me to my feet and forcing me to stare into lilac blue eyes. I struggled in vain, trying to get free from her grasp but she was too strong. "We really need to thank Hephaestus for these," she said, gesturing to her free arm.

"Bronze arms," murmured Eurale. "He was always fond of challenges."

Well I didn't know much about mythology, but I did know that Hephaestus was of Greek mythology. And I knew that there was only one foul beast with snakes for hair. The name Medusa should have given it all away. These were the Gorgons.

"Didn't do it until the late century, so some of the myths are a little mixed on 'em. But these babies are ours," she hissed, a full out snake hiss. I shuddered in revulsion and she shook me once, with force enough to jar my entire body. "How badly injured do you want her?"

"Let her cling to her puny life, alive by just a thread. She can be our thread hanger for all eternity."

I struggled then, despite the burning pain in my shoulder. How had I not noticed the radiating agony from it for this long? Well it hadn't been that long I guess. I shoved it to the side. I had a fight here, a fight to survive and not be made into a piece of rock. I wasn't something to be collected by anyone.

I heard the faint flutter of a butterfly's wings and a shadow descended around us. "Dean!" I heard a distinctly familiar voice. It took me a moment before I recognized it. The suspicious man in a trench coat with soul peering abilities.

I looked over towards the Winchester who had been freed from hypnosis. He glanced towards me, opened his trunk quickly and pulled out a gun of some sort. He took it, aimed and fired it towards Eurale. It was obvious she was the one in charge, and apparently the one that I had insulted. The bullet lodged itself in the center of her forehead and her head was pushed back by the force. And then she leaned forwards again, and with a horrified scream, I watched as her eyes became pure black and the bullet was forced from her skin.

"That wasn't nice, Dean Winchester. And if you think for one minute, that I'll forget this, you've got another thing coming."

He scoffed, "Like I can't take you on."

Stheno shook me, and took one of her bronze fingers that were as sharp as a knife and placed it around my throat. I didn't understand how her gloves were made. They were heavy enough to bruise without cutting, yet light enough to slice cleanly through flesh without bruising. Maybe it all depended on will. Hephaestus was the greatest smith –he was their god after all, whether worshipped or not.

"Another word and I'll cut her throat."

"You aren't strong enough," said the trench coat wearer. He raised his hand towards her and with an unearthly, shallow scream; she vanished in a plume of soft gray smoke. I dropped to the pavement with a pained cry, my wounded arm taking the brunt of the fall for me.

"I told you!" the suspicious soul-peerer said, rounding on Dean. "There are creatures out here that are more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Sam's the only one safe from their powers –Azazel's blood prevents the hypnosis and other poisons from taking effect. If you want to die and get whoever she is killed, then go ahead!"

I rolled onto my other side, staring up at the sky. The pain circulating from my shoulder was killer, and the throbbing of my back was only secondary. "Castiel," Dean growled, "while trying to stop the freakin' devil from getting out, forgive me if I've gotten a little distracted with my life." Wait a minute… Was he talking about his life… or his car? Or were they one in the same to this perverted bastard? "_This_ is my life. And you said nothin' about them able to kill me last time. If they can that's one thing, another entirely if Sammy's immune to 'em."

"He cannot know of this Dean. If he does…"

"What? Hell could break lose? Sorry Cas, I think that's already been done."

What…? Hell had broken free… Dean was supposed to stop the Devil… What? That made no sense. Except for the part that it did. Greek myths were walking the street. I'd seen a vampire and men disappear where there was a wall. Angels and even Satan himself could exist then. It was plausible. It could be true.

"You do not understand!" he snapped. "Sam will be a target to forces greater than even _these_ Gorgons if he finds out. Hades will want him."

Did no one care that I was here? I supposed that I should be grateful that they had the decency to at least not talk about me when I was here. "Hades as in… ruler of the underworld?" Dean asked dryly, "I kinda thought Lucifer had that job."

"Lucifer controls the demons. Hades is almost one, except for the fact that he's a god Dean. A god with people worshipping him. He's feeding off of that and bringing the ancients back. The Gorgons are the beginning. If he summons the Kindly Ones, no murder will go unpunished. That will include you and your brother. You'll be sent to Tartarus, and if you thought Hell was rough… Tartarus is worse."

"He'd have to kill me first, and you and your angel buddies would just bring me back. Your pal Chuckles, said it."

What kind of a name was that? And what about Dean being in Hell? I felt as though everything was foggy and coming from a distance, except for the pain, that was right there. Close by. Eating me away violently.

"Dean you're not listening. Hades is a GOD. Older than ours, and although with a weaker belief he still holds plenty of power. He can and will if he can get it. He'll be able to use Sam as a tool. Immune to everything from his pit; which almost mirrors Hell. But this is from a world older and crueler than our own, Dean. Do you understand?"

That guy seemed awfully overbearing. I felt bad for his family. If he had one. Then again it was possible that he didn't have one with his domineering behavior.

"Cas," he said warningly.

Why hadn't I noticed it earlier? These bastards were never going to notice me. That should have been clear from our last conversation, but sadly it wasn't. I was in pain here, writhing on the pavement, and these two men were discussing some god. Since when had religion taken priority over an injured person? Or was it just me that the universe was apparently trying to ignore?

I cried out in pain, not an exaggerating it. I was in pain, but I was fighting to not let it show. I let it out and quickly clamped my mouth shut with a groan. That got their attention, if only briefly. The pain n my arm was building and I couldn't help the next cry that escaped me.

"Shit!" Dean ran towards me, leaving Castiel behind.

"Thanks a whole goddamn lot for your fucking consideration!" I yelled at him when he stopped nearby. "I'm in real fucking pain here and you assholes are _talking religion_!"

"Sorry," I heard the other man say.

"It's a bit late for that don't you think?"

* * *

_Finally progress on the plot! YES._

_I sincerely hope that this is not too confusing. I thought it was messy. _

_And this is my first update without having my friend check out for Dean and Sam speech. _

_Thanks to Overlord Daisenseisama for helping me edit this chapter, limiting the errors and helping me with Carissa's attitude against Dean's car. _

_Again, hope you like, reviews are welcome and have a great day!_

_A note on their aliases:_

_Rock of Ages -Def Lepard (Pete Willis and Tony Kenning -are or were members)_

_Nancy Hart -Hart_


	6. Bonding with the Bandaged

Bonding with the Bandaged

_"I have felt love and pain; I have felt regret and I must do this," She told her superior. He stood there, stoic face a mask and authoritarian power wavering from him._

_"You would give it up to this?" he snarled, gesturing around him._

_"I would give it all up, were I able. And I would have done so earlier."_

_"I don't want to witness this, Arisa."_

_"You have no choice," she snapped. "A witness must be present to write down the moment when it happens."_

_"Human weakness does not suit you," he growled. "This is wrong."_

_"What's worse is that you're the one to witness it," she told him, her voice dropping sadly. What pain was more profound than this? She knew of no suffering more great. "You shouldn't have to be here."_

_He sighed, "Get to it –I must write it down. The very hour and second, the moment you make the plunge. Essentially."_

_"For what it's worth, I offer you my apologies," she told him, smiling bittersweetly. _

_And then she did the only thing she had been left to do. She reached inside of herself and found the one thing that gave her everything. It was already dim from the torrent of humanity that washed upon it. She physically stepped closer to the edge, and felt herself tighten her grasp on the glowing orb. Waves of agony washed through her. She fought to stand still. She looked up at him, and felt a tear in her eye. And then, she pulled it out. _

_Pain as she had never known before blew her back over the edge. She never regretted it. Excruciating agony wracked her body, and she felt the heavens disappear around her. Her body fell, air flew past her and a scream was on her lips. Tears fell from her eyes and the ground approached faster and faster. The pain increased, unbearably so and an unearthly wail parted from her lips. Her body crashed against the ground and broke into fragile pieces, floating away, a bundle of burning agony. Agony –agony. Pain like no other, pain she had never known. No shattered heart hurt as dearly as this._

It was as though every part of my body was fire, every nerve tensed and ready to fire. I was a bundle of nothing but electricity and pain. Oh god the pain was unbearable. I didn't know what to do with it; it raced through my body over and over. It wasn't until then that I realized the sound in the room was me. I was screaming. It hurt. It was terrible agony, unlike any I had ever known before.

I felt something pressing down on me and I found myself staring into hazel eyes, more green than brown. "Carissa!"

I frowned up at Dean, "I'm not deaf," I growled, "ya don't need to yell."

I was in the same motel room that I had checked out yesterday for me. Dean was looking after me, because he'd let his brother go to see if he could find anything out about the Gorgons. Of course, all this being said without explicitly saying that they were creatures from Greek myth and without keeping him away from it. He was half obeying Castiel's orders.

"You don't need to scream," he retorted, moving away from me.

I paused and I could distinctly remember screaming. I could remember the agony. "It was a dream," I told him.

"It sounded like you were dying."

"Felt like it too," I replied, yawning. I winced as I reached my arm up to stretch. Dean had helped me walk back to the motel, and gotten the keys from me. I'd forgotten that I was wounded. The pain was still radiating from my shoulder, and from my back.

Castiel had disappeared after chewing Dean out and then being promptly ignored. I can't say that I felt bad for him considering he had returned the favor to me. It hadn't been that long since we'd been in the motel, but I'd fallen asleep from exhaustion. I wished that my soreness would at the very least leave me alone. I just wanted to figure out some things, spend some time thinking, not bed ridden and completely injured as I was. Though according to Dean, it was only a shallow gash and a fairly deep and ugly bruise. Apparently it was black and blue already, and it'd only been a few hours since my encounter with those Gorgons.

I can't say that I ever wanted to meet them again, and I was a little worried about Sam and how he would deal with them. It didn't seem right that Dean was being forced to stay here. I would have been perfectly content on my own. I would be better than I was now because Dean wouldn't be here. It was almost like we were waiting for a war to erupt. A war that both of us knew would happen, but neither knew the results nor the reason.

I settled again, and Dean glanced over at me. "Are you gonna be alright now?"

I nodded, "Better now that I'm awake." He rolled his eyes. "Is… Sam going to be alright if he runs into those… creatures again?" I asked.

"Cas probly scared 'em off anyways. He'll be fine."

"Will you… tell me what no one's explained to me?" I asked, looking at him hopefully. Hell breaking open… angels… demons. "I want to know it all."

Dean snorted, "I doubt you want to know all of it."

I turned to look at him, sitting up. "All of it."

"You'd just call me crazy."

"I haven't done so yet, and I doubt I will. In the last three days or so, I've seen you kill a vampire, I've seen a woman push a bullet from her brain and have snakes for hair. Believe me, I won't call you crazy."

He eyed me in askance, "Does it matter so much for you, so that you can find yourself sane?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. "My sanity is a priority for me at this moment and may be for a while."

"Only because you're questioning it," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. "Just tell me, please, what this is all about. This life of yours, the angels and about hell and the devil. I need to know."

He paused, looking at me closely. He seemed to find that I was serious in my inquiry, and sighed. "It's a long tale, Carissa."

And I realized then that it was the first time he'd ever called me by name. I wondered if I'd ever called him by name before… I was pretty sure that I had but I wasn't absolutely positive. "We've got a lot of time to spare."

He sighed, and sat down on a nearby chair. "I sold my soul to a demon so that Sammy could live. And when my year was done, I died and went to Hell. Then the angels came along, pulled me from perdition and told me to stop the sixty-six seals from breaking. Now we're here, waiting for what will come next."

I stared at him, noticing the honesty in his eyes. I wish that this thing could have been a lie, some fantastical story that had been made up. But there was truth in those green eyes. Truth that I wish wasn't present. My life would have been easier if I could have called all of this a lie and ran away screaming about madmen. Sheesh, what an easy way out. It seemed however that I wasn't about to take the easy way out.

"I didn't call you crazy, now did I?" I mocked.

He stared at me flatly, "I just told you that hell's broken open and this is your reaction?"

I nodded. "I kind of heard when I was lying half unconscious. My surprise was stripped away in that moment."

He rolled his eyes, "Just you," he muttered, standing up and pacing around idly.

"Pacing is unhealthy," I quipped.

He fixed me with a glare, "Oh like it matters all that much to you."

I almost shrugged, but stopped, knowing that it would hurt my injured shoulder. "Don't blame me if you get anxious."

He didn't say anything and I settled back against the pillows and blankets. I was still tired and I could feel that tiredness eating away at me. I drifted back into sleep, unfortunately it finding it restless opposed to relaxing. When I woke up next, the first thing I was aware of was the fact that I was burning hot. I shifted irritably and looked around. There was no sign of Dean. Had he abandoned me for his car again?

I peeled the hot, stuffy motel blankets from me, and welcomed in the cool air. I was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt which I'd changed into so that my wound could be treated. It was only a shallow wound, but to me it was probably the largest gash I'd ever received. Dean said it wasn't that big of a deal, he'd had worse before. He'd disinfected the wound and put some gauze around it for me. It was a wound that was closer to the back of my shoulder, harder for me to reach to do anything with it.

I got up and stumbled over towards the kitchenette. I hadn't noticed before that this motel was of a higher quality than the last, but I was grateful for it. My throat was parched, and I wasn't sure that even if I spoke that any sound would come out. I opened one of the higher cupboards and was rewarded with a mug. There were several but I didn't really care. I turned the cold water and I grabbed the plain thing and shoved it under the running water.

I turned off the faucet, and eagerly drank the water. The coolness was refreshing and soothing against the coarseness of my throat. I downed the contents of the mug, and set it against the sink with a relieved sigh. My throat felt better, and so did I, a little. My door opened and I turned towards it almost suspiciously and saw that it was Dean. He glanced towards me and I hefted my mug, like I might throw it or something. I had no intention of doing so. I possessed minimum skill with my left hand. I set the mug back down, and sighed, setting a cool hand against my forehead.

"Let me take a look at that cut," Dean ordered brusquely.

"You just checked it," I complained, walking towards him. He knew more about this stuff than I did, so I would trust his judgment. But it didn't stop me from being childish.

He steered me to the one bed, and I sat down obediently. Sam deferred to him in this manner. I assumed it was a large part of the reason why he'd left me here with Dean. When we hated each other. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and grudgingly pulled it up to allow him to access my wound. I'd already gone through this once before. I felt him shift the bandages, and I heard his breath catch. He set his hand against my forehead, ignoring my protests. He muttered something and got up, looking back at me.

"Stay."

I cocked at eyebrow, "I'm not a dog," I called after him.

He left the room saying nothing, and I looked over towards my wound. He'd removed the gauze only partially so that he could see the injury. I could see nothing. He returned with some cotton balls and a bottle of peroxide as well as something else. A disinfectant, perhaps?

He glanced at me, and I averted my eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

I frowned at his question, "Restlessly. How long was I out?" I hadn't looked at a clock or anything… Was there even one in this room?

"About an hour," he said, pressing the cotton ball coated with something against my shoulder. I assumed it was peroxide and my suspicions were confirmed when I heard the bubbling.

"Did you hear from Sam?" Wait. Bubbling-? That meant it was infected. But why hadn't Dean said anything?

"Not yet."

He still wasn't saying anything and he'd moved the cotton ball away from my wound. All I could hear was the bubbling from the peroxide. How bad was it? "Is he going to be back soon?"

"Once he's done," he replied, opening something and pressing a cotton ball into it before swabbing it over my wound. It stung a little. And the longer it made contact, the more intense the stinging was.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, unable to keep myself from asking.

He was quiet for a moment, "Checking your wound."

I huffed impatiently and wished that I could know what precisely he was doing. But he obviously wasn't going to tell me anything about it. The stinging faded away and he then got up and left, reminding me to stay there. I tried to look at my wound, but the bandages had only been lifted so that he could see the injury. And he'd taken whatever ointments he'd used on me, so that I couldn't even see them. Well that just made my day.

I turned to look forward again, breathing in deeply. I was fine with this. I just needed some patience. I didn't want something to go wrong with my injury and there was no way that I could go into the hospital as a patient. It would be too much of a telltale sign of my new appearance and it would result in being swiftly found. Which was something I was trying to avoid, until I had some answers to whatever questions they might ask me. Right now I had none. I didn't even know what to believe aside from what my eyes proved to me existed. Maybe denying that would have made me feel better, but I didn't think so.

Dean returned with another small bottle in hand and he glanced at me, and then thrust the container at me. "Take however many you need according to your weight."

I frowned at him, but read the instructions on weight and how much to take. I opened it and took out two small pills, and handed it back to him. "What are these?"

"To keep your fever from goin' up," he told me, handing me my mug from earlier which had been refilled with water. How… kind of him. He scowled at my incredulous expression, "You can either die from this, or go to a hospital and get caught by the police or take these. Take your pick."

I popped the pills into my mouth, downing half the water in one large gulp. "I have a low tolerance for drugs of any sort," I added, looking at him from over my mug.

"Oh sure, _now_ you tell me."

"Between death and questioning, I'd rather suffer through this."

"What happens?"

"Giddiness," I replied darkly.

"You make it sound like it's the worst thing in the world."

I whirled to face him, "Do I seem like an overjoyed teenager or something to you? Believe me, Dean Winchester, I grew out of it."

He eyed me disbelievingly but said nothing. I growled in frustration. Well he would end up seeing why I hated being on medicine and being giddy because of it. I didn't drink because of it. A drink or two and I was out of it. Better to not get in that situation in the first place.

I looked over towards my motel room as it opened and saw Sam standing there. I waved gently. He looked around sheepishly, and I pointed towards the kitchenette where Dean was standing. Standing at the door, you couldn't see to the kitchenette. I leaned back against the double bed, setting my mug down on the carpeted floor, sighing idly. Sam walked over towards his brother and the two of them engaged into a deep conversation of something.

I heard Sam ask something about Greek mythology and I wondered at what Dean would have answered. I also wondered how I would bring up the fact that I'd come to a decision of being a hunter. With either of them. I didn't even know how I'd gone from being injured and suffering an infection to wanting to be a hunter. To suffer more injuries like this. I wished that I could have assumed that it was the medication that had done this but I knew it was a choice.

This was an exciting life. Maybe at the risk of my sanity, but with these brothers I knew that I was sane. There was adventure and danger here, not that I'd ever been a thrill seeker. And still I was interested in this choice. I had no other job to go to. I would never go back to being a daycare worker despite how much I loved it. It would be too suspicious and it wouldn't be very likely for me to become an owner again. I'd started from scratch and built up to be moderately successful. Now I had nothing and was therefore starting over. This seemed as good a way as any.

I knew that whatever medication that Dean had given me was working when the throbbing in my back and shoulder went down. It wasn't an immediate affect, but I knew that it had happened. I sat up slowly and looked to where Dean and Sam were still talking. I stood up and grabbed my mug from the floor, and walked towards the sink. Dean stopped talking, watching my approach carefully. I cheerfully filled my mug half full and took a sip.

I turned to look towards them, and noticed that Dean was still watching me. I could see how green his eyes were from here. "You have pretty eyes," I told him, smiling goofily. If someone had dropped a pin at this moment, it could have been heard. "I like Sam's better though." Green eyes were rare and mystical and everything, but something about the warm chocolate brown was more appealing.

Dean groaned, "Great, I get to be the pretty one but Sammy still gets the girl," he muttered, finishing with a dramatic sigh.

"Is she drunk?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I set my mug back on the counter a little harder than necessary and stumbled over towards the brothers. "She's got an infection and I gave her some meds –apparently she's got a low tolerance."

Sam looked at me. I was just standing there, a few steps away from them, looking at them. Ha, it was kinda funny. We were all just standing there… looking at each other. No one was saying anything. "She'll be out pretty soon," he stated.

"Yup."

I giggled. And then I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was just too funny. I couldn't help it. The flat tone in Dean's voice, the hawk like way they were watching me. Ah, it made me think of an eagle and a puppy. Hunting. Like what these guys did, they hunted the eagle and I was the puppy. It was too funny.

"Hey, Carissa," Sam said cautiously. "I think you should sit down for a moment."

Laughing, I staggered away towards the counter and roughly picked up my mug again. I sloshed water against me, and shrugged it off. It wasn't like I was wearing some white shirt or something. It was dark purple. I think. I drank the rest and placed the mug in the sink, turning towards the double bed. It looked comfortable.

I yawned in between my giggles. I was… tired. I lurched towards the bed, grateful that I was closer to it than I thought… or was it closer? I wasn't sure. It didn't matter. I giggled again. Eagles and puppies. A laugh escaped between a yawn and I set my head against a soft pillow.

"That was fast."

"Took longer than I thought," Dean said gruffly. I was barely conscious and I fell away into breaking dreamlands guided by an eagle chasing a puppy with someone shooting after the bird.

* * *

_Sorry it's taken a while to update._

_I'm writing essentially two chapters ahead right now. I've just been waiting for my beta to go over my stuff and she was cut off from the Internet for... days._

_I can write really quick. _

_I hope you'll stick around to read the next chapters because I am psyched to know what you think of them! I was so happy to write them that I just went typer crazy._

_Have a great day -hope you enjoyed!_


	7. Insanity is a Burden You Can't Desert

Physical Pain can be dealt with; Insanity is a Burden You Can't Desert

I slept for a long time and no dreams disturbed the deep rest that I received. It was probably the best sleep I'd ever had. Except that it was a drugged sleep. Drugs usually did that to me. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling incredibly groggy and stiff. I wondered how long I'd been up… yesterday. And what I'd done exactly. I refused to drink because of my low tolerance. It was humorous to many people, but sometimes those people weren't kind. They didn't do anything to make sure I got home safe. Thankfully on those occasions either a bartender or a bouncer had gotten me up and called a taxi and through some miracle I'd made it home. I never tried it again.

I slowly sat up, the stiffness in my body gradually lessening. It felt like I hadn't moved once during my sleep. I looked around and spotted a clock just beside the kitchenette. Weird that I hadn't spotted it yesterday, whenever I was trying to spot the time. It was quarter after six in the morning. With a disgusted sigh I cursed being sick/infected/drugged. I didn't want to be up this early, but judging from everything I had slept wonderfully and there was no way that I was about to go back to sleep.

I sat up, debating on what to do. It would be impossible for either Dean or Sam to get up. There was no way that anyone would be up this early. It was dawn as far as I was concerned. I sighed. Nico had to have gotten up earlier than this in order to get to work. I missed my employee. He was… a good guy. I wondered at how he was doing and if he was getting on alright. I hoped so.

At the light knock on my door, I frowned and got up. I opened it a little, looking out to see Sam standing there. He seemed as shocked to see me as I was to see him. A moment of silence elapsed between us. He recovered from his surprise first, "I was wondering if you were awake, which you obviously are," he chuckled awkwardly, "if you wanted to go out for breakfast?"

As if on some cliché cue my stomach growled. "I'm ravenous," I explained. "I didn't eat yesterday; breakfast sounds wonderful. Can I have fifteen minutes or so to get ready?"

"Of course –I'll go wait in the lobby."

I smiled and closed my door softly, before turning to my plastic bags which contained my clothing. I yanked out a gray-blue long sleeved shirt which I pulled on tenderly after removing the t-shirt just as carefully. I grabbed a pair of blue jeans next and shoved them on before fumbling around to find a comb. I found it and untied my hair from the fragile braid it was in and I drug it through several times before tossing it back into a ponytail. I hated short hair. And I especially loathed that it was still bleached. I needed some color –I didn't particularly care so long as I got some that was not a shade of blonde. That was the important thing.

I hurried downstairs, rapidly descending to the lobby. I know some girls thought that it was their right to take forever changing and that their boyfriend or whomever had to wait, personally I actually thought that it was condescending. I hated to take too long while getting ready for an event of any sort. And Sam especially didn't need to be kept waiting. Dean I might have made an exception for, but that was only a maybe and only if I was exceptionally angry at him. Or something he had done recently. But even then I might still be quicker then I could be when it was up to my liberty to take forever.

I arrived in the lobby promptly, and found Sam waiting there. I don't think that I'd ever been up this early before for breakfast before. It was odd, to me. I wondered if it was usual for him or if he'd just been unable to sleep or something.

We left for breakfast in a peaceful silence, choosing to walk. I'd never really done much walking outside this early in recent years and it was quite pleasant. A cool breeze blew through and the warmth of the sun before it was scorching made it bearable. Later in the day this heat would be too much. Sam walked steadily, his long strides carrying him farther than my own shorter ones. I hurried to keep up with him. I'd never considered myself short before with being all of five foot nine but his gigantic six foot six height did. I wondered if this was what shorter people felt like as they tried to keep up with my long strides.

Sam paused to look around a moment before determining whatever it was that he was checking. Then I realized it'd been a look for traffic as we sauntered over the crosswalk. He didn't pause and continued back down the sidewalk and I knew that his confidence came from being absolutely certain of where he was and where he was going. Nameless buildings flashed by as we walked on. Abruptly Sam stopped in front of one and held the door open for me. I smiled gratefully at him, and we took a seat while we waited to be dictated to a table. A young perky waitress bounded over, grinning ear to ear.

"Welcome! Please come right this way," she said, and we followed after her. She had us sit in front of the large window at a small table for two. I blinked against the bright sunlight. "Here are your menus," she added, passing them to us. "Call me if you need anything."

I tried to blink against the sunlight. "This is ridiculous," I growled. The table was set up so that both of the occupants were blinded by the dawn sunlight.

Sam shielded his eyes with a hand, "Would've been better to get different seats," he agreed.

I mimicked him, protecting my eyes as I scanned the menu. I immediately found what I was looking for, and had my order ready. The waitress, as though she had sensed my readiness bustled over. I really wished to have been sealed elsewhere. "Are you ready to order?" she asked eagerly. I wondered at just how bored she had to be.

"I'll have chocolate milk and the strawberry Bavarian cream pancakes," I told her happily. I glanced at Sam, shrugging mildly.

"Orange juice and strawberry pancakes," he told her.

She nodded, "I'll be back with your drinks shortly." How could someone be that bubbly? At this hour too. I suppose her attitude was admirable.

I looked at Sam after she left, "I've got a sweet tooth, especially prevalent in the morning." I could count how many times I'd ever made it to lunch without eating a sweet. The number was appalling.

"I like to be healthy," he replied with a shrug.

I smiled. I didn't have a chance to ask him anything else because the waitress returned. She handed us our drinks and left, promising that our breakfast would be ready soon. Looking around the restaurant I found that there were no other patrons present. I would've rather been freed from the sun's ray than be guaranteed my pancakes. I paused and reconsidered that statement. I hadn't eaten yesterday and I was starving. No. I guess I'd rather eat.

"What about your brother?" I asked into the silence.

"He'll survive."

What a helpful statement. I mean after all, most people like dean just dropped down dead if their brother and a friend went to breakfast without them. It was such a _very_ common experience. I can't really say that I was feeling particularly kind at the moment. I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. I might have rejoiced at his death, however, which was more important in my considerations. Nah, not likely. I didn't hate him that much. Almost. But not quite and that made all the difference.

The too-happy waitress returned carrying two plates of pancakes and a container of syrup. She set them down, all big smiles. I couldn't the cynical thought that formed as I wondered if she was doing this just to get better tips. She seemed too cheery and too honest however for it to be less than an honest personality.

We both began to eat, cutting a small piece off after having spread some syrup over it. At least I had, I wasn't sure if Sam had. I loved sweet things in the morning. Although when I was working I didn't usually have enough time for any sweets before getting to work, at my office I always had some candies stored around. I needed them to be bearable in the morning, in my opinion. At the very least it made me feel happy. And that was why I ate the sweets. Essentially.

I looked towards Sam, a question coming to mind that I was hesitant to ask. It wouldn't seem very appropriate at all for this time, but at the same time it was a question that I would love to know the answer to. It was probably a really pointless question too but it was one that having an answer to would ease my mind a little. I winced inwardly as I knew that as much as I wanted to ask that question, I also had to tell him that I had decided on being a hunter. Now that one, I had absolutely no clue on how to tell him about. It was far too insane for me to do anything with.

Yeah… I wasn't sure what would happen when I told him that I wanted to be a hunter. I suppose the idea was that I just straight out tell him. I took a deep breath. Someone had to say something. And Dean had said that I had to tell Sam first before he said anything about it.

"Uh Sam?" How does someone go about mentioning that they wanted to be a demon hunter? It would indicate suicidal and homicidal tendencies.

"Yeah?"

Where was I supposed to start? "I want to be…" he was eyeing me quizzically and I felt heat rush to my face. I took a deep breath. "I'd like to be a hunter," I finished quickly.

He stared at me for a moment. "Why?"

"I've nothing else to do," I said mournfully. "If I do this, I can be sane. I can do something meaningful and always know that I'm not crazy."

He looked at me with what I could only describe as being a mixture of pity, disbelief and patience. "You could die."

I forced myself to shrug, "So I'm suicidal."

"You'd have to kill things. People. Demons."

I grinned wickedly despite the weight in my gut, "Venting my anger," I joked. His brows furrowed, un-humored and I sighed. "I could probly find somethin' else unrelated to the action?" I asked appeasingly.

"You could get hurt." And no, I felt no romantic vibes from that speech. Not that it would have made any difference. It was a hard, logical response that Sam had presented.

"I'm already injured, and that was without even fighting monsters."

He nodded fairly. "That's true, but by being associated with us and other hunters you'll get hurt worse. You'll even become a target. This is just the beginning."

I met his gaze squarely. "Physical pain is one thing," I told him, "but having the world think you're insane is worse than anything I can ever imagine."

"So you're doing this just to feel sane?" He took a swig of his orange juice and I frowned at his tone. No. That wasn't what I'd meant at all.

I shook my head. "No, not like that. I meant…" I trailed off, trying to find the right words.

At that moment however, I heard the bell on the restaurant door ding and I turned to look towards the sound. And there I saw Dean standing. He had a clear view of us, especially with both of our heights and he strode over towards us. On his way towards us, he pulled up a chair in order to have an available seat. "Well this is cozy," he remarked, sitting between Sam and myself. "And it's nice to see you doing better," he told me, a glint in his eyes that made me suspicious.

"Thanks," I said hesitantly, holding out the vowel.

"Waitress!" he called out, waving over our still overly cheerful waitress. If anything she seemed even happier to see that she had another customer.

She hurried over towards us and I had a moment of preparation because I knew that Dean would have to say something. I was grateful to my timing. I heard his arrogant and suggestive comment, which he made after he had ordered. I took the syrup container for both my breakfast and Sam's, and although it was quite a shame to waste it, I upended it over Dean's head. There was no way that I would have another chance to talk to Sam about being a hunter with Dean being here. I preferred to talk to Sam about this stuff anyways.

Dean turned to glare at me, attempting to shake off some of the syrup. "You bitch!"

"Man whore," I countered lazily, rolling my eyes.

"I don't get paid to be laid."

"I've yet to see a woman throw herself at your feet and beg for it," I said scornfully. "Oh wait. That would imply desperation."

I glanced towards Sam who was laughing, "You're just jealous that I won't give you the time of day," Dean sniffed.

I scoffed gaily, "You're letting dreams and reality blur." I rolled my eyes, looking at him, "Your dream self can only wish for it."

He made a sound of disgust and rose to his feet; he tipped the waitress on his way out and let the bill for Sam to pay without another word. I sighed, and turned back to Sam who was still laughing. I wondered if he got too much amusement out of this. I turned to my breakfast, eating it again. I was going to have to start focusing on my meal soon. I was starving and this pace of eating was not helping me to fill my stomach fast enough.

We both finished eating, silence finding its way between us. It was comfortable enough. The waitress hustled over, dropping the bill off without Dean's meal. But of course, he did get charged for his order. We both shuffled our plates to the middle of the table; I gulped the rest of my chocolate milk down and joined Sam at the cashier.

The bubbly waitress beamed up at him, ignoring my presence entirely. "I hope you were happy with your meal and that you'll be back."

"It was good," he said amiably.

"I'm off at seven," she told him, winking.

I turned away in disgust. Dean had just hit on her and she was doing the same to Sam. I shook my head. I glanced at the hunter and he took his change and left the restaurant without saying anything. I followed behind him, feeling a little like a lost puppy.

"How often do you end up with the girls that Dean fails to impress?"

He chuckled and looked at me, "I rarely connect with people because of the job."

"How frustrating is that?"

He shrugged, "It doesn't really bother me anymore." He paused, and we made eye contact. His milk chocolate eyes met mine, "It's something that takes a long time to adjust to."

I averted my eyes, knowing at what he was trying to say. I wasn't used to always leaving someplace. I was used to meeting people and being able to stay in contact with hem for however long I wanted. Hunters couldn't do that. They came through a town, and moved on to another and then another. I wondered how they ever formed families, how they ever stayed together.

"Sam please," I said softly. He stopped walking, turning to face me. I looked at the pavement between both of us. "I just want to…" I sighed. Now wasn't the time or me to bring up the baggage from my past. I closed my eyes and shook my head, "Never mind."

"Are you alright?" he asked considerately.

I nodded weakly. "Just… thinking. We should get back to the motel –thank you for breakfast," I added, switching topics.

"No problem," he said smiling, and continuing to walk. This time he took slower steps. "Wasn't the best breakfast ever though."

I grinned up at him, able to walk at a normal pace with him for once. "I got fed –that's the important part. And my sweet tooth was satisfied. Also important."

"What don't tell me that it keeps you sweet," he teased lightly.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed aridly, "I'm sweet enough without any help."

He laughed but said nothing. I grinned, happy to have switched topics. We crossed down the crosswalk again and continued towards the motel. I still had no idea on how I was supposed to get him to understand where I was coming from. I wasn't about to tell them my stupid past. I saw the motel and was actually happy to see the damned thing.

"You should get your injury treated again –the peroxide should be enough now that you're fever's gone."

I looked at him, "I don't think asking Dean right now would be the best of plans." Considering I had just dumped a container of syrup on him. No… he wouldn't do it and if he did, it wouldn't be pleasant.

"Its peroxide, I don't think you'll need Dean to give you the medication again anyways."

"It's on the back of my shoulder," I told him, tracing the area with my hand, "and I'd have to at least rewrap it with gauze. I can't do it on my own," I added helplessly.

"I could help you, if you want," he offered with a pleasant smile.

I grinned, "That would be great. I can get my arm treated and don't have to worry about getting an amputation or something."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'll get the peroxide so that you don't have to worry about Dean killing you."

Not that he really would. I was somewhat sure of that. A little… "Thanks," I told him, smiling gratefully.

We each headed up towards our rooms, I entered mine and locked the door as I pulled off my long sleeved shirt and replaced it with a t-shirt. I didn't like tank tops, and the only time I ever wore them was to serve as an undershirt or for layering purposes or I might have changed into that. A tank top would have made it easier to access my injury. I then unlocked my door and sat down, looking out through the open window towards the motel parking lot. It was calm and cool as ever. I heard Sam knock on my door and I told him that it was unlocked.

He entered and ducked through the doorway. It was only the doorway that was too short for his stature. He straightened and walked over to me, and I noticed the peroxide and gauze he had in hand. "He's really not happy with you."

"Of course," I said sighing. "I really don't think that we're about to get along anytime soon."

He chuckled, "I though his medicinal aid might've helped. I mean last night you even told him he had pretty eyes."

"I did what?"

He chuckled but said nothing. I grabbed the hem of my fresh shirt and pulled it up so that he could see my bandaged wound. I felt his feather light touch as he gently pulled the medical tape back and peeled the gauze away. Like Dean yesterday, he inhaled softly. I didn't ask what it looked like, that shortness of breath was enough to tell me that it was bad enough.

"You also told me that you liked my eyes better than his," he added softly, opening something with a soft popping noise.

"I have a low tolerance for drugs," I replied quietly, my heart beating strongly.

"Figured as much with your sporadic behavior," he murmured, dabbing something against my wound. I inhaled sharply at the cold pressure. "Didn't hurt did it?" he asked concernedly.

I shook my head. "Just cold."

He pulled the swab away, "It'll be worse in a minute," he said, grabbing a tissue and setting it beneath my wound. "I have to pour the peroxide onto the wound directly; otherwise the swabs would just soak it up." I nodded mutely. He lifted the bottle, and I heard him twist open the cap.

Cool liquid washed down my back and I gasped at the presence. Dean had managed to do this differently or I was just so out of things that I hadn't even noticed the cold presence yesterday. The tissue caught the excess medicine, but I heard the bubbling. My wound was still infected. When the sound of the bubbles had faded, I heard another container open. How he had carried at least three ointments in with him without me noticing immediately, I didn't know.

He gently tugged at the gauze wrapping, and I felt some of the glue stick to my skin as my flesh tried to separate from my body. But the tape snapped away, weakly, and my skin remained intact. Sam apologized softly, and then spread out another gauze piece against my wound which he then carefully taped against me. I let my shirt fall down again, concealing the wound.

I turned to look back at Sam, his chocolate brown eyes met mine and I saw tenderness. I shifted away shyly. At that moment the door to my room banged open and I whirled to see Dean standing there. He looked at Sam, completely ignoring me and stepped back out into the hallway, a sign as obvious as anything else that Sam needed to follow him. I didn't let Sam clean up, and sent him to go follow Dean. I grabbed the swabs and tissues, throwing them in the garbage. Blood stained gauze followed, and I set the peroxide and two ointments beside them on the counter. I glanced towards the door where I knew that the Winchesters had left from.

* * *

_My F key is rather hard to press down on so there might be a few times where the letter has been left out. It's been hard to keep track of, but I've tried. _

_I hope that everything is progressing smoothly. _

_Again, I hope you've enjoyed it and have a great day! _


	8. When You've Got BPD

_Thanks to Supernatural Satisfacton and Irene Gerk for betaing this chapter. It's longer than my other ones but nothing too insane I hope._

_I hope you enjoy -and I'd love to know what you think of it._

_Have a great day!_

* * *

When you've got Borderline Personality Disorder…

Sam returned a few moments later, and I wondered what Dean could have possibly told him. It didn't seem to be anything really important. "Did he just want to rant about the syrup in his hair?"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah that was it exactly."

I heard the sarcasm in his voice and I narrowed my eyes accusingly. "Are you teasing me Sam Winchester?"

"I would never dream of it," he replied straight faced, the twitching of his lips the only thing to give him away. I smiled. Then the atmosphere got serious, he looked down toward me. "Carissa…"

"Yeah…?"

"That uh, employee of yours, Nick…?"

"Nicolai," I supplied, looking at him alertly. Had something happened to him? Why was he even bringing up Nico?

"Yeah, him," he said absently, looking away.

"What about him?" I urgently demanded, worried for my employee and friend.

"He... Were you and he…?"

I frowned at Sam, and then I noticed he wasn't looking at me and the awkwardness with which he was speaking with and somehow, I got it. A partial laughed escaped my lips and I clamped them shut firmly. Now was not the time to be laughing at this misunderstanding. I shook my head. "No. Nothing like that."

Had I just imagined it, or had he let out a relieved breath? Or was it a sigh? It was probably just my imagination. Before Sam could say anything, and I knew that he was about to say something, the door opened and Dean stepped in with the suspicious trench coat wearer accompanying him. I turned to them, irritated at the interruption. I was interested in hearing what Sam had come up with to say as a response. Dean didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Actually, looking between them, neither of the bastards did.

Dean looked both angry and depressed; the angel looked as bland and uncaring as ever. I wondered at their presence, but Sam seemed only irked to see them but not surprised. Had they been discussing this already?

"Zachariah has sent for us," the soul peerer stated. His gaze settled on Sam, "All of us."

"Would that include me?" I asked, looking at the youngest brother.

"You must if you are going to tagalong for eternity," Castiel replied simply.

"Only if you want to," Sam interjected.

I looked to Castiel, completely clueless as to what I could be getting myself into. Who was Zachariah? I suppose that wasn't the most important question I should be asking. I nodded. I'd told Sam I wanted to be a hunter. I was going to do this. The angel in a trench coat closed his eyes, and concentrated. It was a peculiar sensation, like I was a fish out of water. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't move. I was suspended in air, but the air around me was moving and it was getting tighter and tighter. I could feel the oxygen in my lungs was slowly being squeezed out from me. A scream formed on my lips.

Then I was on hard stone ground, inhaling air as though it had been an eternity since I'd last tasted the sweet air. I was on my knees, and I noticed that both Sam and Dean were standing upright looking completely undisturbed. Had this only affected me? Not even the suspicious Castiel was winded. Somehow being an angel offered immunity.

I slowly rose to my feet, standing beside Sam. There was a short gray haired man sitting in a high backed armchair as though it were a throne. He looked towards us, colorless eyes focusing on Castiel. A lazy snap of his fingers and the soul peering man disappeared with the sound of butterfly wings. He surveyed us, stopping to examine me. He rose from his chair and strode down a few steps. He even had his throne set on a pedestal. How original and _completely_ unassuming.

"Mortals like her are expendable. She can't fight demons and all she has are insecurities," the arrogant prick drawled. I felt as though spiders were crawling across my flesh when he spoke and I shuddered involuntarily. "Carissa Corwin –can't say I've ever seen someone more useless or as unlucky as you." I tensed, the hairs on my arms rising. He was reading me, like the other angel had when he'd read me. He smirked, "Really now."

"She's in trouble with some demons," Dean growled. "We're keeping her safe."

The man, who I could only assume was Zachariah, turned to Dean and me, "Whatever trouble she's in, she'll have to get herself out of."

Speechlessness struck me again along with fear of this angel. At least I assumed he was an angel. He couldn't possibly be human. "Too bad –she's not going anywhere she doesn't want to and if you don't like it, we'll just leave."

"Cas! We've spent long enough here! Get us outta here!" Dean barked, glancing at his brother curiously. Was it odd for Sam to defend people? Or was it just me that it seemed impossible for someone to want to defend?

Zachariah laughed scornfully, "I'm too strong for Castiel. He won't be coming to save you."

"You'd better let us go 'cause we're not gonna do anything you ask," Dean growled.

"I doubted you would have anyways," he sighed dramatically. "I just wanted to have a civil conversation with Sam here." He snapped his fingers coolly, like it was a loss for him to be unable to speak with the younger Winchester.

I heard a hummingbird and turning to look in the direction of the sound I saw another man standing right at my side. He wrapped one arm around my middle and yanked me away from the hunters, slamming me against his hard and muscular frame. A surprised yelp escaped my lips as he drew a long, gleaming, silver blade. He set the metal against my exposed neck, the coldness biting into my skin.

"If I can't destroy the mountain, I'll kill the rock," the angel in front of me explained.

"Let her go!" Sam yelled, his hands clenched at his side.

"You mortals are too noisy for your own good," a Spanish lilt marred the words, the knife pressed deeper into my throat and I remained a frozen captive.

"What good will it do to kill her?" Sam inquired reasonably.

"For one I'll feel better, and secondly I'll have your undivided attention," he snapped. "Alejandro, I'll leave her disposal to you."

And then there was that same sensation again. I felt the tug that I hadn't noticed with Castiel's warping and I screamed as I was shoved into the vortex. This time the feeling was worse. Disorientation as I felt myself pulled in different directions, the sound of my scream wrapping around as though it might suffocate me and my cry echoing longer than I had oxygen.

I'd never really considered myself unlucky or lucky. I suppose if I had to say anything, I reflected as I was slammed headfirst into the ground with the force of a small meteor, it'd be that I had encountered a few too many black cats and broken more mirrors than necessary. Sadly though, I couldn't recall having those experiences.

The knife which should have slit my throat open and let me bleed out, was a few feet away. I could see it but I didn't have the strength or will to reach out and grab it. A tanned hand plucked it from the soft dirt. I groaned weakly, blinking several times as I tried to summon strength of some sort.

Alé or whatever rolled me onto my back so that I could stare up at the sky. I found myself coughing violently, trying to suck oxygen in. He grabbed my hand and roughly unclenched it, shoving the hilt of the knife against it. Dark gray eyes stared into mine, and he was so close to me that his velvety hair brushed against my forehead.

"See if you survive that which killed you last," he hissed.

With what I was growing accustomed to, his humming sound told me he disappeared and I was left staring at a clear blue sky. What did he mean by that? Where was I? Where had Castiel even taken us in the first place? Sometimes I really regretted this following method I'd somehow developed. It was going to have to be broken sooner or later and sooner was looking to be more appealing. Still winded from the crash, I struggled to sit up. Looking at the small explosion we'd made, I wondered how I hadn't broken every bone in my body. Cursing the angel I staggered to my feet.

I blanched when I realized where I was. I shook my head vehemently, denying that this was possible. I scuttled out of the shallow blast site and reached the top. A wave of nausea striking me, as fear swarmed around me and I felt as though I was drowning in the sensations.

_She had just seen a bright flash from the Park Forest, like that of a lightning strike. But what if there was a fire? It was another dry summer and Carissa couldn't let something like that happen without reporting it. No matter how unusual and unlikely it was for lightning to strike from a clear blue sky, she had to check out that strange place. She grabbed her jacket and shoved it on, slipping into her worn sneakers before ducking out of the house. If her parents knew she was looking for a forest fire, they wouldn't be very understanding. But if any of their property was destroyed, they wouldn't be able to replace it._

I gasped, fighting to stay on my feet. I shook my head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not this. Of all the places to be sent, why here? Why did I have to remember these things? How could someone do this to me? Living this trauma once was enough! I didn't need to see it again. I didn't need to experience these feelings ever again.

_Carissa jogged over to the park and pushed her way through the dense brush. She knew where the strike had been. As she made her way closer to the blast site, she saw no signs of fire and relaxed. The flicker of red, the color of fire had been troubling, but thankfully it seemed that there was nothing there._

_She moved aside some branches, her feet sinking into the soft ground beneath her. She frowned and lifted her feet higher as she walked. She hadn't realized that everything was still this wet after the rainstorm the other day. _

"Please no," I begged to anyone, someone had to know I was here. "I don't need this." But the deluge of memories from when I was fourteen was too strong and unrelenting. I didn't stand a chance.

_Something bright gleamed ahead of Carissa and she sped up her pace, trying to tell if it was a flame or not. She broke through the trees and found herself standing before a large impact site. She saw two people at the edge of the crater, long gleaming weapons in their hands. A gasp escaped her tight throat._

_One of them charged the other, and a single shot echoed around. The woman running stopped and froze a bullet through her chest and blood pooling around it. An eerie laugh sounded dark and ominously through the small glade. This had been an area for sitting and relaxing, enjoying nature, once. Now it was a desolate and destroyed crater. _

_The woman's eyes inked over with pure black, and she turned to look at Carissa and screamed. The bullet dislodged itself from her chest and dropped silently to the ground. The man who held the gun in his hand whirled to face the young adolescent, coal black hair whipping and Carissa stumbled backwards, her body alive with fear. The woman with black eyes and no wound approached towards her like some hellish nightmare._

_She didn't walk. Her feet were nowhere to be seen, but instead she stood on a floating mortar bowl. The old hag floated over, her stringy silver hair flying out behind her and she bared teeth like knife points in a cannibalistic grin. Carissa screamed and tried to flee but her feet got tangled in the long skirt she was wearing and she fell to the soft earth. _

_She got to her feet as the hag was approaching, and discovered to her horror a fence formed of skeleton remains. She noticed odd orbs sitting on top of the stakes, and a blood curdling shriek was ripped from her throat as they turned to look at her. An ominous glowing light was coming from the eye sockets of the human skull._

_And then, the orbs turned to look at her and a blood curdling shriek ripped from her throat. A human skull sat there looking at her, golden light coming from the thing's face._

"No!" I cried, sagging against the dead earth. "No!" It was all lies. Lies, lies, lies. There was no truth. I saw nothing. It was a lie. A lie. I was a liar. Nothing more, nothing less. I lied. I had to be…

_Another shot sounded, this time the bullet lodged itself into the back of the crone's head and she whirled to face the man she had ignored in order to pursue Carissa. The fourteen year old sat there, staring at the grotesque and barbarous skull with open fear, tears rolling unbidden down her soft cheeks. The dampness from the earth was being absorbed by her skirt, pressing against her warm flesh and creeping towards her bones. She couldn't move._

_"Kid get outta here!" the man shouted, and she turned to look at him emptily._

_A ghoulish cackle sounded and Carissa was frozen once again in pure terror. "She's mine Johnny boy."_

_"Find some riper flesh why don't you?"_

_"I hear you've got a couple boys of your own," she whispered sedately, "sacrifice them to me and I'll let this one go."_

_"Like Hell!"_

_Carissa flinched as the man fired another bullet at the old woman and she realized that the small movement had brought her closer to the skeletal fence. She whimpered and fell away from it and heard a shriek of rage. She rolled onto her stomach and wormed back to a sitting position. She was too transfixed to possibly flee and the fence circled the glade. There was no way out for her._

_Another gun shot ripped through the quiet of the once solitude that Carissa had sought. She knew that she would never return to it. She would never come to see the apple trees blossoming and smell the sweet chrysanthemums that she loved. They kept bugs at bay, and she adored the gold flowers that bloomed. She would never come here again to hear the quiet breeze rustling the leaves in the oak trees and to inhale that sweet scent of blooming flowers, unbothered by allergies that so many others suffered from. Carissa would never call this place her sanctuary again. She would never rush out to see if a fire had destroyed her second home. She would never look at it again with a child's sweet innocence. _

_"Is that really the best you can do Johnny?" she crooned, her leathery voice carrying over the silence of the woods. No animals stirred. "At this rate I'll butcher you and have her for dessert."_

_"Shut up!"_

_"Ohh how I love children. The sweet flesh burned from their little bodies and the delectable crunch of their growing bones in my soup. The scrumptious purity to their rich blood; their naivety enriches the meal. How I love the children of this land."_

_"Stuff it Yaga!"_

_"That's Baba Yaga to you hunter!" she snarled whirling to face him, baring her knives-for-teeth._

_Carissa watched as the witch hurtled towards the middle aged man from the hovering mortar bowl. She saw him pull out something that gleamed in the dim sunlight that had filtered through the bright leaves. He moved rapidly and a gunshot sounded, followed by a terrifying whoosh as an unearthly howl escaped from the woman's mouth. Like a raging inferno she staggered back, clutching at her stomach where a knife was embedded. _

_"I'll get you for this Johnny boy! I don't forget so easily!" and then, she disintegrated and the knife hit the ground with a soft tang. The fence behind her sank into the ground and there was a cry from chickens somewhere nearby. Carissa didn't understand it._

_"Oh just go back to Russia." She could have sworn that she heard the man say that. With big eyes she watched as he walked over to her, having already collected his knife from the ash that was blowing away in the wind. She felt as though she was blind and her eyes could see nothing more. "Next time, you should run."_

_Carissa felt her teeth chatter suddenly and she choked back a sob. The man walked away, and she turned to look for him. "What was that?"_

_"A monster," was all that he said in reply as he left the forest._

No, no, no. Please no. I couldn't take this. I closed my eyes and felt my body hit the ground but it did nothing to stop the pain the memories were causing. I could feel my mind ripping apart, freeing the lies and the untruths from where I had buried them so long ago. No more. I would be kinder; I would stop all the temper tantrums just so long as I didn't have to see anymore. It was too much and I couldn't bear it. I didn't want to go back there. No never again. I'd vowed it once and I meant it. I would _never_ go back. I didn't care what this world did to me, or if I had to slit my own throat. But no one could ever take me back there. With a scream of anguish, I found myself plunging into the winter of darkness.

_That day when Carissa went home, she had no idea what to say and it was the unbidden truth that she spilled. Of an old woman flying on a mortar bowl, of a man with a gun who killed the bestial thing and of a fence made from human bones. She knew once the truth had spilled from her lips that she never should have said anything. _

_His tight grasp on her wrist shook her back to the reality that life had given her. "Lying devil child!" was the roar as she was slammed against the frame of a door. He slammed it open and shoved her into its tight confines and a wail escaped her lips. Not one from pain. The physical she could manage; she had learned how to do so from a young age. _

_That night was the last summer she saw. She had bindings against her feet and her hands as men dressed in white came into the dark room and dragged her out. They said it was for her own good. They took scissors and chopped off her hair until there was only short bristle left. They said she could kill herself with it. Choking on it, or strangling herself. Luscious well cared for hair fell to the floor in a cruel pile._

_Cries of desperation rained from her, fragile arms shook and a heart longed for some acknowledgment. Eight pairs of eyes watched her as they hauled her into he back of the vehicle and she could only scream harder and louder. Maybe if she screamed loud enough they would hear her. They would save her. Only if they could hear her though. She had to try harder because she wasn't trying hard enough. Her family would save her. Of course they would and these evil men in white would be stopped._

_But no matter how long or loud she screamed for, her voice failed her and the vehicle pulled away from her home. "Send her in for medium-term at the Winston Hospital. They're not sure if she's a schizoid, histrionic or anti-social. What 'er folks say might even be a BPD girl here."_

_What did that all mean exactly? Why were they taking me to the hospital and why was my family letting them? There was nothing wrong with me! "Observation for a couple o'weeks ought to sort that out."_

_"She's just a kid."_

_"They all start off as kids Al, you know that."_

"No!" I screamed with every fiber in my being. "Don't take me back there. Don't take me there!" But whoever was doing this, did not listen to me. I felt a spasm painfully wrack my body. Tears rolled down my soft cheeks, my eyelids remained closed.

_"Your name?"_

_"Carissa Corwin," she said, her voice shaking and emerging from a hoarse throat. _

_The doctor looked at her from over the rim of his glasses. "Tell me about this Baba Yaga lady you met today."_

_She glanced around the room nervously. Had her parents said something about that? So she told him about her encounter with the old crone. It was the truth and she wasn't one to lie about things unless they provided her some usefulness of some sort. Like getting out of trouble or getting her sibling into some. _

_The doctor nodded and wrote down the notes in his little clipboard. Carissa started fidgeting uncomfortably –the doctor had been looking at her with mostly cross or apathetic glances. She was tired. It was late and she wanted to go to bed. The drive to the city had taken most of the evening and it was night now. Carissa just wanted to go to sleep but this man in a long white coat wasn't going to let her. He said that he just wanted to talk to her for a bit. _

_"Why do I have to stay here?" she asked him._

_"Just to see how you're doing," he replied smoothly. _

_"I want to go home."_

_"It won't be long." He ticked something off on his papers and looked at her. "Tomorrow we'll get together and go and see some other nice people. How's that sound?"_

_Carissa frowned at him, "I guess…"_

_He smiled, "Very well then. Sleep well Carissa Corwin." He walked over to his door and called for a nurse._

_The younger woman led her to a hospital room which she then proceeded to lock Carissa into. She was alone that night, in a dark room with a mesh screen over the window and a glass covering on the door. She was supposed to sleep on a hard cot bed, with sheets that were scratchy against her bare legs. The room was stuffy and too much light filtered in from the hallway and the lights outside. It was impossible to sleep._

I didn't want to be there. It was too much. A sob broke free from my throat and I knew that a more wretched sound had never existed in this universe. Hopeless and desolate, my last stand was breaking as it had then. The last winter. The last summer. My last life. I didn't need this. I'd lived through it once. I knew that my tears had left salty trails down my cheeks and I couldn't summon the strength to even wipe them away and banish the awful emotions storming inside me as they reached a climax.

What kind of torture had they gotten into their minds to subject me too? My own misery. They sure were fucking considerate bastards for angels weren't they?

_"Carissa, why don't you share?" She turned to look at the doctor, her blue eyes wide and full of fright. She shook her head empathetically –not a hair brushed against her shoulders. It had been chopped off. A light frown decorated the woman's unparalleled beauty. "This session is about sharing," she prompted._

_Carissa shook her head again. She didn't want to be like the older people around her. She wasn't sure what was wrong with them, but as surely as she knew that she was breathing, she knew that there was something wrong with them._

_"At least introduce yourself –it's only polite."_

_But there was no denying that fact. Reluctantly Carissa got to her feet, and looked toward the exit at the far side of the room. That way she didn't have to see these scary people. "I'm Carissa Corwin, from a small farm about twenty minutes from town. I'm fourteen years old and I don't know why I'm here." She sat back down, looking at her lap where she folded her hands so that no one had to see that she was shaking. She wanted to go home._

_She heard a harsh scoff and turned towards the older teen who sat across from her. "They think you're a loony. Don't you get it, ya little twit?"_

_"That's quite enough Theresa," said the doctor lady, cutting off the other girl effectively._

_Carissa looked around the room dumbly. It made sense. "But I'm –I'm not c-crazy."_

_"No one said you were sweetie," the doctor tried to console, shooting a dark glower towards the girl who'd let the cat out of the bag. "We're just observing you…"_

_"You think I'm crazy?" Her voice broke on that, come out squeaky and ragged. "I'm-I'm not. I'm not," she tried to insist more reasonably._

_"Darling…"_

_"Don't call me that!" Her mother was the only one who ever called her that. This woman had no right! _

_"Settle down now, Miss Corwin," she said brusquely, standing up._

_"You liar!" she shouted, standing up abruptly and knocking her chair backwards. "You think I'm crazy!"_

_"No I don't," she said, sounding calm and perfectly reasonable._

_"You-you can't do this! Once my parents hear about this they'll-they'll stop you!"_

_Carissa heard that harsh snort once again and turned to look at the most truthful of the gathered people. The others were looking away or had edged away earlier. "Who do you think committed you here?" she demanded cruelly._

_"No!" And like a teenager sometimes does, she violently kicked the chair, unwilling to believe that any of this was true. It was all a lie. Her family would never do that. She wasn't crazy. They were liars! All of them! She couldn't believe a word that they said. "You're lying!"_

_Theresa scoffed, "You only wish bitch," she snarled, rising to her feet and storming off to another part o the room._

_There were men grabbing Carissa's arms, holding her back. She futilely kicked her legs out and screamed until her throat was hoarse, but it did nothing to dissuade or stop the men. They took a syringe and injected it into her arm and sudden pain washed through her, but at the same time so did tiredness, her sight blurred and then faded entirely. She slumped forward, unconscious._

I wished that I was away from this never ending siege. I wished that I had stayed at the motel. I wished I wasn't here. I wished that his had never happened. And above all else, I wished that it wasn't real. But no one listens to wishes, or at least they never listen to mine.

_"Do you know who Baba Yaga is?" Carissa's doctor asked as she sat in his office, looking away from him. She had woken up in her room yesterday, oblivious to what had happened and then her doctor had summoned her. She shook her head mutely. He didn't always like her to talk to him when he asked a question. "She is a Russian fairytale. A cannibal witch who eats children. She doesn't exist."_

_"And the man that I saw?" she demanded irritably. Anger pulsed through her most of the time now. These people thought that she was insane! They understood absolutely nothing and it was starting to piss her off._

_Her doctor leaned over, removing his glasses so that his cool gray eyes could look into hers unhindered. "You were hallucinating both of them."_

_It felt like her world was falling apart around her. "What?" She hadn't just imagined them!_

_"It's not uncommon for patients with BDP to have delusions. You're aggression yesterday was testimony to that." _

_"What aggression?" she squeaked indignantly._

_"You kicked the chair," he said calmly, putting his glasses on. "You cursed at Doctor Simone."_

_"I never!"_

_His sharp eyes were on her again. "Are you calling Doctor Simone a liar then?"_

_"Yes!" Carissa shouted angrily. "I never swore at her! I just kicked the chair and called her a liar! Theresa used the foul language!"_

_He sighed, "Now you're trying to blame it on another patient. Again, this is part of BPD. You'll have a lot of work ahead of you Miss Corwin if you keep this up. Now sit back down and let's talk about this." She hadn't even realized she'd been standing and she reluctantly took a seat. "I'm recommending two days of solitude, some medication and more group therapy. You're term of observation has officially ended. Now we are moving into treatment."_

_"How soon can I go home?" she asked miserably. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home. If she could still call a place full of betrayal home. She wasn't sick. She wasn't insane. This whole thing was completely unnecessary._

_"It will depend on how quickly you can recover," he replied smoothly. "Nurse!"_

_One of the many nurses came in and grabbed hold of Carissa and led her out. She was tired of this. A small paper cup was offered, filled with water and two small white tablets were passed to her. She dropped them into her mouth and downed the water. The sooner she got home, the better._

I never did come back to this state. Everything still seemed the same. Oak trees fanned out through the glade, long boughs reaching for the sunlight and bright green leaves full of life. The sweet aroma of apple trees in bloom and chrysanthemums saturated the air. Nature. The ground beneath me was hard, as ground should be. It was a place like any other in this world. A little piece of a much bigger picture. A place once called "sanctuary".

_Carissa had survived her two days of seclusion which was like a smack on the hand for what she had done apparently. She'd just been released to go for group therapy. She wasn't looking forward to being with sick people again. They had some twisted stories that they shared sometimes and she knew that they were lies. Just awful lies and she didn't want to have to deal with them. Everything was a lie in this place. _

_She had seen Baba Yaga, whatever the doctor said. She'd seen the man kill her. She knew that it was no figment of her imagination. She refused to admit it as such. Then she joined the circle of others like her. Theresa was noticeably missing from the picture. _

_"Welcome back Miss Corwin," the female doctor said again, in that insufferably barren tone. Carissa said nothing in response. "Please introduce yourself."_

_"Hello again," she said through clenched teeth, standing up and looking at the ceiling. "I have something called BPD. I want to go home, but I'm told it depends on how fast I recover." She took a deep breath, turning to glance at the female nurse. "And I fucking hate doing this stupid fucking useless introduction." She then took a seat again. "I did swear this time, doctor. Just so we're clear."_

_That night when they took her to her room for seclusion again, she came to a decision that home didn't matter and that it would never be the same again. She took the scratchy blankets that made sleep impossible and she fastened them into a noose which she painstakingly shoved through the mesh. Her hands were bleeding by the time she was done. This was a god awful place, which god had forsaken. She was a lunatic to the world. They would punish her until she broke. And she was tired of it. The drugs, the loopy grins, the incoherency and the doctor's bullying and condescending manner. She was done with this place even if it wasn't done with her._

_With bleeding hands she put the noose around her neck and stepped away from the cot, the best thing that she could think of doing. But her feet could just touch the floor and she knew that it would be a long time before the life was drained from her. But she had that time to spare. She let her eyes close and dangled there in prolonged agony. _

With a scream I fought the memories that were slowly killing me as I had once done. I was a fool to do it. The nurses had broken down the door and untied me before I'd even fallen unconscious; apparently they did nightly checks on patients just for that reason. I'd lost what rights I thought I had. They watched me eat, they took my blankets and watched me sleep and I was escorted everywhere I went. I lost what I had thought was mine. And when it was gone I missed it more than anything I'd ever lost before.

My body convulsed and I let out a scream. For pain I'd already felt and pain I'd yet to feel. Pain those dirty rotten bastards hadn't bothered to suffocate me with. They would get around to it. With a gasp my scream died away and I lay there, looking at the sky above me. Like some heavenly paradise waiting –a place I would never see. A place I never wanted to go to if it meant that self-righteous soul peerers would bombard me from every direction.

"Carissa!"

I stirred, recognizing the voice that was calling out to me. But I couldn't put a name or a face to it and it seemed to be coming from so far away. I didn't want to move. The universe had condemned me and so I might as well just stay here and rot to death. Better than interfering in a world that hated me. I didn't want to be hated. I didn't want to have borderline personality disorder. I didn't want to lose my life, my friends or my family. Yet here I was. I had lost everything.

"Carissa!" I could detect panic in the voice that cried out for me.

And I wanted to answer it. That urgent voice, calling me, deserved my answer. Deserved to know that I was alright. That I was alive. But I couldn't reach to where my voice was. I didn't know where my lips were or even where I was. It was just endless floating in this place neither here nor there. I was in limbo. And I didn't know how to leave.

"Carissa!" this time someone dropped to their knees beside me, tenderly shifting what had to be my head onto their lap. I imagined gentle brown eyes looking at me, full of concern. "Wake up," he told me insistently.

I thought about it, focusing on how to see. Imagining worried brown eyes searching for any sign of me to be alive. A large warm hand found my wrist and checked my pulse. I wasn't dead. I felt mildly insulted that he thought I'd die that easily. No I had a little bit more resistance in me than that.

"Sam?" I asked, my voice sounding incredibly weak and tired to me. It sounded far away, like it was miles and miles away.

"You're alive!" he sounded positively elated.

"Am I supposed to be dead?" I murmured softly.

"No," he said quickly.

I smiled lightly, tightly, and opened my eyes the smallest crack. I could see him. But what had happened to him, blood trailed his cheeks and his hair was mussed. I tried to lift my arm but it felt like it weighed a ton. I set it against his tanned skin.

And then, I couldn't hold it back. Tears sprang to my eyes, tears I'd been fighting off as best as I could in a battle that I could not win. I threw myself towards him, burying my head against his chest as sobs seized me and there was nothing I could do. I felt my body shaking and shuddering and I was helpless to stop it or to attempt it.

"I'm sorry," I said through the tears and the hysterics that were tormenting me.

"You don't have to apologize," he said into my hair.

Hair that wasn't all chopped off, just mostly. It dangled around my shoulders in bleached blonde messy curls. I cried against him until I couldn't anymore. My energy was drained and there was nothing left for me to say or cry. Sam set his hand against my hair, slowly stroking it in comfort. It helped me relax. Before I knew it, I had passed into oblivion.


	9. Trust is a Beautiful Thing

Trust is a Beautiful Thing

I woke up to find myself lying on a soft bed, and staring up at a bland white ceiling. I distantly hoped that everything had just been a dream but I knew that it hadn't been and I hated that more than anything. It meant that I had just relieved the worst moments of my life. I had just been to my own personal hell. And no matter who it was, I would never wish it upon them to be subjected to that. I didn't care what they had done. It was the worst thing I'd ever experienced and like the angel had said, it _had_ nearly broken me then as it had now.

"Carissa?" I heard someone ask softly. I didn't want to acknowledge them, but I slowly turned my head to look towards the door of the room. Sam was standing there, looking awkward and hesitant. He must've carried me back here. I looked back up at the boring ceiling. "Are you… alright?"

The tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, rolling down against the pillow behind me. "Just fine," I croaked, my voice breaking on me. He was quiet for too long and I couldn't stop my flow of tears. Some stupid reaction to stress probably. I couldn't even properly lie to myself now. I shook my head, and I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

He entered and walked over. I averted my eyes from him, like it hurt to see him standing there or something. He sat down on the end of my bed and I felt like I was a little child or something. But I reached towards him anyways, my pale hand stretching and my entire being crying for some human companion. But I'd already cried enough on Sam, he didn't need me to break down on him again. I was old enough to fix myself. It wasn't his place to have to cure me.

He carefully set his large, warm hand over mine. I welcomed the presence of a real person and not a ghostly memory. Not a howling ghoul terrifying me of the night I'd once adored. Here was someone of this time, this place. A person I could trust. What more was expected of me? What else was I expected to give up and sacrifice? I didn't want to lose this trust. I'd fought and struggled for it and here I'd found it. I grabbed onto his hand shamelessly, fighting the crushing sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me.

"I'm not alright," I admitted, letting the flow of tears slow. I struggled to sit up against the pillows. "I'm broken," I told him miserably.

"You're not," he soothed, "you're alive and well."

I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his. "I lost everything once Sam Winchester. I told you, I can deal with physical pain. It's when everyone believes I'm stark raving mad that I can't." My voice cracked again and I stopped to take a deep breath. "Don't you tell me that it's because I want to be sane that I'm here! I'm here because I don't want to be mad!"

I leaned towards him, setting my head against his shoulder. I muttered an apology under my breath. I meant the words but he didn't need to deal with my anger that had nothing to do with him. This was anger at my past. Rage at what I had just gone through again and for the things that I never wanted to suffer. Unfairness about the whole situation washed over me.

He set his hand against the back of my head, gently caressing my hair. I didn't know what to tell him. I was a mess and I didn't want to drag him into mine with me. I didn't even know what had happened after I had been sent away by Alejandro and let to suffer. I wasn't sure if I was in North Carolina or not, or even if I had ever been there. I should ask him, but I was scared to. I was scared of what he might tell me and I was frightened by what I might have to tell him.

"I'm sorry I said that earlier," he said haltingly. "I didn't understand…"

"You still don't," I growled miserably. I felt awful and horrible and there was a burning rock sitting in my stomach.

"I _would_ like to," he said quietly, softly, without force.

I shifted to look up at him, finding his gentle brown eyes to be looking at me. Tears beaded in my eyes. "I'm scared," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Of what?" he asked kindly.

I pressed my head against his shoulder. How could I tell him and expect trust back? How could I know that I wouldn't lose the only thing that I had left in this world? I couldn't. Trust was based on something I could not see. Trust was fleeting, and here I had to choose. Something I had never done before. I'd talked to no one about that wretched place, about what a deplorable person I was there. About what I had tried to do and had failed. No one had ever needed to know. I had locked that place so far back in my mind I knew it by fact and not feeling and here I was, facing the feelings from then.

Once I'd locked this all away, to never think about again. And here I had the choice again. But this time I had someone here who wanted to hear about it. I didn't feel obligated to share; I felt that it would ease my mind to tell someone. I closed my eyes, struggling to swallow a sob.

"Insanity," I whispered, the word burned my mouth like Tabasco sauce.

"There are people who know demons exist and what we do –"

I shook my head, "Then they should learn how to say something," I hissed, knowing that my words were probably incoherent. "I was in a mental ward, Sam." I heard his intake of breath. "They said I had BPD."

"Which…?"

"It means that I have angry outbursts and that I'm deluded," I told him through clenched teeth, finding the strength to look at his face. Only a brief flash before setting against his shoulder again. "This is what I'm like without the meds –I haven't taken any since I was nineteen."

"You're not crazy."

"Didn't stop the diagnosis," I replied quietly. "Didn't stop them forcing pills down my throat everyday, didn't stop the depression that built nor did it prevent the suicide attempt." I paused, inhaling deeply. "I hung myself one night there, but if I stretched I could still touch the floor. I planned to hang there all night long until my very life faded." I wanted him to understand how bad it was for me, there in that place. That it was the place that had crushed me and broken me. A place I would never go to again.

He put his arms around me, pulling me close. Unwilling tears shed my eyes. "It was a bad time," he murmured.

I could feel that I would break down soon. I tried to pull myself together with what had to be sheer will. "I've never told anyone about this," I whispered. "My own family put me there because I saw Baba Yaga." God I still remembered that name. It was probably etched onto my brain by now. "I guess to normal people it sounds pretty delusional. But this had never happened before! They told the men who came to take me that I had outbursts of anger frequently, that I wasn't affectionate and that I lied all the time!" I felt that little piece that I was desperately trying to hold onto slip from my grasp. "They lied about me and all the time I was in that god-awful place they never once came! Family therapy the doctors told them, told me, and they never once came!" A child's hurt. An old wound. Was it still festering after all this?

He was rubbing my back soothingly, like a child. A small laugh escaped me. I _felt_ like a child at the moment. A fourteen year old to be more precise. I couldn't even hold myself together for this. I relaxed against him. "Family shouldn't do that," he replied carefully.

I was silent for a moment, "The moment I went into the hospital, I stopped being part of their family," I whispered. "When I thought to go home, I found my bags packed and thrown at me. I was disowned the same night I got out of the hospital. And I had nowhere to go."

He pulled me closer against him. I could hear the beating of his heart and I could feel the warmth of his body. I didn't want him to let me go. I didn't want to break apart into a thousand pieces of nothingness. I was a core of anger and will and pain. I didn't want him to let go of me. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to either. And I could hold myself together any longer. A fractured cry broke free from my lips.

One of his hands resumed the pleasant stroking of my hair. I'd always been someone who appreciated that. It helped me relax. I pressed myself against him, basking in the presence of someone who knew, someone who trusted me still. I didn't want to lose that. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, and I could feel the salt that covered my face.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he said quietly.

"I've soaked your shirt with my sorrow."

"What, you want me to strip?" he teased lightly.

I gave a watery chuckle, "Not right now," I murmured.

He laughed, one of his hands playing with a piece of my hair. I settled against him comfortably and he felt it too. He shifted and I latched onto him firmly. He wasn't going to leave me. I didn't want to be alone. "You can let go," he said into my hair, the warmth of his breath sending chills down my spine. "I'll stay if you want."

I nodded against him, my grasp relaxing. His petting of my hair was soothing, and the presence of a human not from a memory was even more relaxing. Soon, before I knew it, I had drifted into oblivion.

* * *

Dean frowned when he noticed that Sammy was still gone. It wasn't like his brother to disappear without warning for a couple of hours. He wandered over to Carissa's room and found that the door was already slightly ajar. He tapped it open and it moved soundlessly to show him where his brother had gone. Sammy was propped up against the wall, looking across the room with Carissa wrapped around his arm, her head resting on his chest. Sam looked over at him, and lifted his free arm to mime silence. His girlfriend shifted restlessly next to him. The poor kid hadn't even slept with her yet. He'd probably get there soon.

He walked towards his brother, his steps adopting the hunter skill of being silent. "She alright?" he asked gruffly, moderating to a quiet tone.

Sammy shook his head, "Cas was right when he said that the angel Zachariah sent after her would subject her to the worst thing she'd ever experienced."

"How bad?"

Sam looked at him and shook his head, "_Bad_."

"She gonna be better?"

"I think so."

Dean looked down at the sleeping girl. She didn't look half bad asleep. She didn't look untroubled however. Her face was drawn in a frown, her eyelids flickered typical of dreams and her body made small spasms every now and then. "I'll leave you two lovebirds then," he said, stepping back. "And dude, I don't think she'd mind if ya made a move on 'er."

"She's sleeping Dean," he growled.

"All the better," he replied lasciviously, exiting the room. He gave a start when he saw Castiel standing right there. He frowned at the angel. "Personal space," he said, pushing Cas back from him. Too close for comfort. A reminder that he wasn't human.

"Ah sorry," he said without meaning. "I have urgent news."

"'Bout what?"

"Circe is in town."

Dean stared at him blankly, "Who?"

"An enchantress blessed by Aphrodite herself, with a voice sweeter than a Siren's song. She turns men into animals, which is why there is a large number on the loose here. And a number of missing men."

"We kill her, the men turn back into humans?"

"Of course."

Dean paused, glancing towards the room. He turned to Castiel, "It'll just be us on this one then."

"Sam…?"

"Is occupied," he smirked, thinking of what his brother would say when he learned that he'd done this. But it was good for him to be with Carissa. He knew that she was human. Maybe he hated her, and was waiting to upend a bucket of syrup on her head, but she was honest and human. And she was good for Sammy. Not some leeching demon. A normal girl, thankfully. Finally! He'd found one.


	10. Captivated by a Jacket

Captivated by a Jacket

When I woke up, I wasn't alone. To be honest I was surprised to see that he had stayed. Sam was asleep next to me. I could tell by his deep, regular breathing. It was comforting. My head was still on his shoulder and I knew that if I went to move, I would probably get a crick in it. I shifted slowly to look up at him. His hair looked so soft and silky. I'd never really paid much attention before. Usually it was his eyes that I noticed the color of milk chocolate. His sun bronzed skin, well-muscled body… He was appealing to look at.

I wondered what it would be like to touch his hair. I could feel my hands twitching to run through his soft hair. Would it be as silky as it looked? Would it be soft or coarse? Feather-light and baby fine or thick and straw like? I wanted to know. And it was a healthy curiosity here. I was probably feeling better.

I would never forget that he'd stayed here with me, for who knows how long. I'd never forget that he listened to me, that he supported and comforted me. He had my trust. He had trust more complete than I'd ever given to anyone else. I was afraid they'd turn on me, calling me crazy and ostracizing me like my family who disowned me. Facts were one thing, the feelings that accompanied them another entirely.

I wondered if Sam knew how much I appreciated what he had done. How much I trusted him? I hoped that he would understand how much this all meant to me. I would have to tell him sometime, thank him maybe? Nah, it seemed too useless and weak. It wasn't like that at all. I just…

Impulse took hold of me, and I leaned in towards him. My lips brushed against his cheek in a ghostly kiss. I felt his arm spasm and with a blush I slowly pulled away from him. He would probably be in agony when he woke up. If I'd slept for any substantial length of time his arm would be numb at the very least.

He stirred and I looked away. It would be creepy if he woke up and I was looking at him… That was just creepy behavior and I didn't want to be taking part in it. I felt him inhale deeply, and I shuffled over to give him some more space. He was tall enough to require some room. "Carissa?"

I looked over at him, smiling, "Morning?" I didn't even know if that was the appropriate time of day outside, but it was suitable seeing as he had just woken up.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, covering a yawn.

"I dunno," I replied. "I just woke up."

He pulled his sleeve back, revealing a wristwatch. "It's ten in the morning," he replied, pushing his jacket back down.

"When… when did I fall asleep?" I asked hesitantly.

"About three, four, hours ago."

I swallowed tightly, "And where… where are we?" I hoped that he wouldn't say those words. The ones that would distress me. But he didn't know that they would, and I asked. I deserved the answer I got.

"Winston, North Carolina. Cas said that the other angel had left you here…" he trailed off, probably at the expression on my face. "What's wrong?"

"This is my home town," I told him quietly. "I haven't been here since…" I was glad that I didn't have to finish that sentence for him.

"We can leave here soon," he assured me.

"I hope so," I whispered. I wished that I hadn't been here first. Couldn't I have just been sent someplace else? Someplace that maybe looked exactly like my hometown, but wasn't it. I could have handled that much. This I couldn't take! Being made a prisoner to these horrible memories and this even worse place.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his large hand settling against my shoulder. I wondered absently if he felt any pain from me having slept on it.

I nodded weakly, "I'm holding it together." For the moment.

"Carissa…?"

I looked away from his caring gaze. "I'm starving," I remarked instead, "aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, standing up and stretching. I could see his muscles flexing. "Meet at the lobby in twenty?"

"Definitely," I said. He made it as far as the door before I decided to say anything. "Thank you… for staying."

He looked back at me, flashing a dimpled grin. He turned the doorknob and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. I was left in brief confusion and it took me a moment to locate my bags. I stood up, wincing at the stiffness in my body. I slowly undressed, grabbing out a pair of jeans and pointedly ignoring the skirt. I wasn't fond of them at the best of times, but after remembering my encounter with Baba Yaga and having tripped because of it, I was less fond of them. I pulled the tight black jeans on, and changed into a faded blue-gray quarter sleeve shirt. I yanked on a pair of ankle socks before slipping into my worn sneakers.

I untied my hair which had already practically fallen out from the elastic and ran a comb through it several times. It fell neatly around my shoulders, testament to how well-cared for it was. I glanced at the mirror opposite me and closed my eyes from my reflection. My complexion was pale, my features drawn and wary. I looked like I'd been through hell, pardon the expression. I felt like it too. I walked towards the large mirror above the vanity and I flicked a finger along my eyelashes, curling them upwards. I could faintly see that my eyes were red from crying and there were tear streaks down my cheeks.

I glanced around the room and caught sight of the bathroom. I entered it and flicked the light switch on. I turned on the tap and cupped the water in my hands, trying to look more decent and presentable. It also helped me wake up. I grabbed some toilet paper, drying my face gently before disposing it. I made my way out, turning the light off and heading to the lobby.

I realized belatedly that I still had to tell Sam that I wanted to be a hunter. God I had to be one of the stupidest people on this planet. I'd just suffered insanity again and that wretched disbelief. I knew what losing could do to me. I didn't want to lose either of the Winchesters. A tie to my sanity. I was willing to go through that again and even worse to be with them, helping them and other people. Maybe even saving some girl from what I'd suffered. I wanted to do this. Would they be alright with it though? Sam hadn't seemed too… happy when I'd brought it up with him. But he understood why the sanity part mattered to me. And even if I wasn't out there fighting monsters with them, I could surely do something to help them.

That was all I wanted to do. Something simple, something useful to these two. Maybe I didn't like Dean, but it didn't mean that I disrespected him and what he did. If anything I congratulated it. I liked what he did. He saved people. Day in and day out, that perverted hunter stopped people from dying. He'd probably saved some from being diagnosed as crazy. Sam had too. It was admirable and strong and brave.

I didn't have any other options. I wouldn't accept them to deny my desire to help them. Tagging along had already brought me this much suffering, they could at least let me feel like I'd done something to deserve this. Not that I did deserve it, and not that I blamed them for it. I chose to accompany them last time and I didn't regret it. Not at all. I mean the memories were awful, but how could I regret something I'd already been through? I'd gotten over it; I'd locked it all up. Now I had Sam at least who knew about it and who knew that it wasn't a hallucination that I'd seen.

Sam was waiting in the lobby already, his hair combed back and wearing fresh clothes. A tan jacket over a white shirt with faded blue jeans and runners. He smiled upon seeing me. I smiled back, slightly nervous about my appearance. We let the hotel, and he held the door for me. I could see the Impala parked in the lot, with Dean sitting in the driver's seat, looking at us impatiently. He honked his horn. I glanced at Sam, apparently we were expected.

He shrugged and opened the back door of the Impala for me, I slid in, smiling gratefully at him and he then got into the passenger seat. "You two take forever," Dean growled.

"Forgive me for sleeping," I drawled. "Where are we going?" I wasn't sure if Dean was still up for breakfast and everything seeing as how he'd been since earlier.

"Ihop," he replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "So Sammy… ya make your move?"

"Unlike you I prefer my girls awake and functioning."

I looked at Dean suspiciously and then I glanced at Sam. Had Dean suggested something to Sam about me while I was asleep? I almost felt like I needed to start sleeping with an eye open. This perverted bastard was not to be trusted. Not that I trusted him as far as I could throw him previously, but now I would trust him no further than I could see him.

"Why does it matter if he makes a move or not?"

"He's too girly and I raised 'im to be a man."

"If you raised him it's a wonder that he's still a gentleman."

"I obviously raised him damn fine and you don't know nothin' –"

"Dean," Sam said warningly. It was a moment before he turned to look back at me, probably making sure that his brother was composed. "Our, uh, past can be a little touchy."

"Sorry." I didn't know what could make someone that touchy about their past. I wasn't one to talk either though, with the fact that my past could make me burst into tears. Even being in this godforsaken place was torture enough.

Silence elapsed, slightly contemplative on my part and scared as well. I was pretty sure that for Dean it had to be an angry one, and Sam likely had an uncomfortable one. I looked out the window at scenery once familiar, now slightly aged and time distorted. I closed my eyes again, forcing the string of memories back. I'd grown up here. I went to school there. I'd learned baseball just over that street. Oh and here, here I'd gotten in my first fist fight which I won.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of Ihop and I cheered. I loved pancakes for breakfast. They were the best thing to satisfy a sweet tooth. We got out of the Impala and entered the restaurant. A hostess greeted us and handed us our menus once we were seated. Oddly enough we were crammed in a small booth, Sam sitting beside me and Dean across from us. I skimmed my menu, and knew almost instantly what I would order. Strawberry pancakes with chocolate milk. Mm. A waitress came by to take our orders, and we all knew what we were getting. Black coffee, tea and chocolate milk. I loved my sweets so.

Once the waitress had left, I finally looked up at Dean, realizing that I had a crystal clear opportunity to tell them about wanting to be a hunter. Well… There wasn't any way to possibly make saying this any easier. So I blurted it out, effectively. "I want to be a hunter."

Dean's green eyes narrowed skeptically at me. I met his gaze seriously and he turned to Sam, who just shrugged. I had told him first, as per Dean's orders. "If you die it's your own fault," he said gruffly.

"She won't die," Sam interjected.

"Your girlfriend, your responsibility to train. I'll only help if you _really_ need it."

We weren't dating or anything… Did he have to say it like that? Sam nodded and before anything else could be said, the waitress returned with out breakfast. It was a welcoming speed that she used to get us our food. She deserved a tip for it at the very least.

I took a small bite of mine. I noticed then that Dean was waving to someone. I glanced over a table to see that it was a young woman waving at him. She flicked her pen back and forth idly, contemplating something. I looked away. Our meal was again disturbed when a paper airplane made its way through the air and landed in Sam's tea with a wet plop. The napkin started to absorb the water; Dean quickly snatched it to save its contents. Which I could clearly see featured a name and numbers. Dean smiled at the girl.

Sam sighed, and rose to his feet, taking his cup with him. I assumed that he didn't want to wait for the waitress to return; she seemed busy with the other tables that she was waiting for. As Sam headed to the counter for a refill, the woman who had just thrown the napkin over for Dean, stopped him and talked to him. I wondered what she had to say to Sam, after having just given his brother her number. It seemed odd to me.

I continued eating my breakfast in quiet contemplation. Dean had no issues about me being a hunter and Sam knew why I wanted to be one. I still didn't know what I could do. I suspected that either of the brothers would tell me when things came down to it. I caught sight of Sam and noticed that again on his way back, the young woman had stopped to talk with him. I was beginning to feel on edge. What had she wanted to talk to him about? Probably about Dean but not necessarily.

Sam then returned, sitting beside me again and turning to his breakfast. "What'd she ask?" Dean inquired, intrigued.

"She uh asked for our names and then if we would be interested in uh, hanging out sometime." I looked at him, curious to hear what he had said in response to her. "I told her that Dean would be happy to spend time with her, but that I had someone in my life," at that point he turned to look at me. I was too stunned to say anything. It kinda felt like someone had just bashed my face in with a frying pan. A unique sort of stunned silence. "Or was I wrong to think that we could ever be more than just friends…?"

"No!" I said too loudly, with too much vehemence. Dean, if he had been trying to ignore this, was forced to acknowledge that it was happening. I knew that my cheeks were flaming and in an attempt to seem normal I went to take a drink. Unfortunately, I swallowed too much and ended up choking on it.

And damn the both of them, sitting there with smiles on their faces. Well Sam had reason. But Dean certainly did not. I glared at him, trying to compose myself. "Way to go Sammy," he said with a grin.

That… I almost wanted to slap him right then and there. My chokes finally died down and I was able to breathe. I hoped the flush in my cheeks was due to the choking by now. Angrily I flung the piece of pancake on my fork at him, and it stuck to his cheek. Before I could say anything else however, the young woman from the other table had walked over. Dean shifted so she could sit down if she wanted to and he wiped off the pancake.

"Why do you have that stuck to your face?" she asked.

"She's abusive," he said gesturing towards me. She glared.

"I'm Lyn Ecric," she said with a big grin at Dean. I couldn't help but think of how terrible it would be to have a last name like that.

"Dean Winchester. My brother Sam and his girlfriend Carissa."

She looked at me a moment, her dark auburn hair hanging around her in voluminous waves. "Why stay with someone abusive like her?" she asked Sam.

"She's only abusive to pigs ergo the pancake stuck to his face."

Lyn looked up at Dean, batting her eyelashes, "Good looks make up for a man's flaws."

I felt like gagging. Their shallowness perfectly offset the other. He smiled at her, "You've got great taste."

The sensation one feels when they're about to throw up, struck me at that moment. "It's a shame your brother doesn't have the same appreciation for beauty."

Dean laughed at that. I was getting ready to leave. I didn't want to have to listen to this. I was done with it and I just wanted to get out of Winston as soon as I could. She glanced back at me and her eyes widened suddenly.

"I know you!"

I tensed abruptly looking up at her, "I'm afraid we've never met before."

"You're Beatrice's sister," she insisted. "We went to high school together. Not that I'm surprised you don't remember me. Last time I saw you, or even heard you mentioned was at least thirteen years ago. They said you'd been shipped off to a madhouse."

I shook my head, fighting my instinct to run, putting it on hold just a little longer. "No, that's not me. You've got the wrong person." But Beatrice was my older sister, four years older than me and in every way a spoiled and doted upon daughter. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to see my family. And hopefully this wouldn't get back to them.

"You look so much like your family though. You and Bea have the same eyes, and your father's nose… mother's smile. You've got to be kidding me. You have to be one of the Corwins."

"No," I told her tightly. "I'm Carissa Hart. You have the wrong person," I glanced at Sam hopefully.

"She's a Hart girl for sure."

Lyn looked down thoughtfully and then shrugged. "Well alright, if you guys say so."

I pushed my half finished meal away from me. "Excuse me please," I told Sam.

I knew that I was shaking. I was afraid that she might tell Beatrice that she'd seen me. And my older sister knew the gossip lines. She could be on my trail any moment to find out if it was me. It was highly unlikely that she had changed much in thirteen years. She was a flirtatious, attractive woman who knew that she had that power over men and she loved to exert it. She would adore them one moment and drop them in the next, whichever suited her best.

Sam stood up and moved for me, and I made my way out of the restaurant. I didn't want this to be going on. Outside I took a deep breath of air. I didn't remember Beatrice having any friends by that name before but then again I didn't bother to recall who her friends were. I was rather unconcerned with it all. I took another deep breath of the fresh air, trying to compose myself. I had two sisters and a brother. Beatrice was the oldest, I was second born, Eli was the middle child and Daniella was the baby.

Sam joined me outside not long after, and Dean followed behind him. I didn't see Lyn with either of them. "I need Sammy to get doing some research on the case I'm working on," Dean informed me gruffly. "And in the meantime, I get to outfit you because apparently, I've nothin' better to do."

I looked at Sam pleadingly, "Can't he research it himself?"

Sam shook his head vehemently, "I don't trust him with my laptop. And he wouldn't do it anyways." He saw my expression and softened his, "Oh come on, it's not like he'll kill you."

"She'd probably kill me if she could," Dean muttered.

"Hey, does outfitting include weaponry?" Sam nodded. "Hm. This suddenly seems a more appealing prospect than I thought."

"No," Dean said quickly. "Sam gets to outfit you with the weapons."

"I'm not letting you near my computer."

I walked over to the Impala and looked back at the two brothers. "What are we waiting for?"

Dean slowly made his way towards the Impala, grumbling about something. He seemed to unlock it at an agonizingly slow pace and I got into the back as had become habit. Sam started to walk back to the motel that we'd stayed at. I didn't decide to move up to the vacated passenger seat. I figured it would probably scare Dean a little too much with my vicinity. Also I just didn't want to be that close to him.

"What happened to Lyn?"

"She gave me her number," he said, patting his pocket.

"No I mean… well how'd you leave her?"

"Sam told her we had shopping to do and he wouldn't drop it. So we left."

"What items do I need anyways?"

"You need a duffle bag to haul your crap around in. Carrying forty bags just takes up too much space."

"Knives?" I asked hopefully. I would need some sort of a weapon.

"Yes, those would probably do you some good. A cell phone to keep in contact with. Fake ID… credit cards…"

"How do you get the money for all this?"

He shrugged, "This and that. We mostly hustle pool."

I knew what that was like. It made for some… entertainment. And you did end up with a little extra cash in your pocket which was always a benefit. Though sometimes the other players could be awfully grouchy about the whole thing. I had fun with it on the few times I'd been short on cash. No one had skinned me alive when they heard it was for a daycare and to pay rent. Anyways they'd betted fairly –maybe I hadn't won fairly but still.

We drove in silence before Dean parked outside a hunting/camping store. I followed him in and we bought a suitably sized duffle bag. I knew that once it was full of my belongings that it would be a pain to haul around. Dean shoved it into the trunk and we continued on to one store after another. Buying a good set of knives was hard enough but Dean said that he thought I'd do better with a throwing knife.

Most places had a sample knife out in case there were people who wanted to try them out, but the store workers accompanied them to the back where they had some targets set up. It took me about until the last sample knife before I found one that was perfect for me. Dean bought the set the sample knife had come from and stowed it away in my duffle bag and we headed to find me a toothbrush and toothpaste as well as a cell phone. Motels and hotels supplied shampoo and soaps but they didn't provide toothbrushes.

We stopped at the mall in Winston and we didn't leave with just those items. I saw hairdresser stand and I dragged Dean with me. I was done with being a blonde. I asked for my hair to be dyed red. I told her that I didn't care what shade, just so long as it wasn't black and it got rid of the red. I was ecstatic to have gotten rid of the bleach in my hair. I never wanted to be blonde again. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw me with my hair. He paid for it too, and I beamed at him. Of course that also wasn't all that I had him buy for me.

On our way out from the mall, I saw a white leather jacket in a store. I stopped Dean and stared adoringly at the thing before turning to look at him pleadingly. "Oh you –you can't be serious."

"I'm very," I told him, my eyes glued to the jacket.

He sighed, "I know a losing battle when I see one," he grumbled. "Sam's gonna be payin' for this."

"Oh thank you!" I threw my arms around him happily. And then I pulled back immediately, realizing who I had just hugged. I cleared my throat. "Thank you," I repeated more calmly.

He looked down at me in confusion and then shrugged, walking silently into the leather store. I tried on the jacket and found one that fit me and Dean bought it for me. I hoped Sam didn't mind… Well if he did I could always pay them back. Through hustling pool most likely considering it was these two did. I clutched the jacket to me happily, realizing that that was the last clothing article I was in need of. When we were in Broxton I'd gotten everything aside from a jacket, figuring that I would be left behind or something.

At first the drive back to the motel was rather quiet. "Dean?"

"Mm?"

I paused, finding it awkward to phrase the question. "Are you… fine with Sam and I dating?" I wasn't even sure why I was asking him this. It just felt… appropriate seeing as how we were all going to be stuck together for a while. If he had any issues it would be nice to have some sort of a warning.

He burst out laughing at that and it took him a while to adequately calm down in time to respond to me. "I'm happy for him. I mean, you're the first normal girl he's been with. Well… closer to normal than the others."

I frowned at him. "I'm perfectly normal. I'm an individual."

"With anger management issues."

"I have those knives now," I informed him.

"They're in the trunk."

"You have to stop eventually. For gas, for Sam, or food. I could find a way into it. Eventually."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing. I smiled in satisfaction. So we didn't get along, but it was nice to know that he was fine with me dating his brother. I looked out the window, idly wondering if that was what I had been concerned with. Our dislike of each other getting in the way with my relationship.

* * *

_Updating twice today so that I'm not writing four chapters ahead anymore. Only about two now I think. Eventually my beta will get caught up ;)_

_And it doesn't help that I've been soooo busy looking after my cousin._

_He's an annoying brat. And it's only for two weeks _ Great. I'm running myself ragged staying up until 2 in the morning to write this and getting up at 8. I function on six hours but not when I have to be tolerant enough that it's more than my usual tolerance._

_Next chapter might be a let down for those of you waiting to see some more supernatural creatures. I mean to start bringing that back after the chapter that I'm working on is finished._

_I don't want to over update them either. Today's was done because Trust is a Beautiful Thing was fairly short._

_I hope you're all having a great day! Enjoy!_


	11. The Enchantress Circe

The Enchantress Circe

Sam and Dean had gone to find Circe. I was left in charge of their things and to research about her and see if I could find anything. Sam said that he hadn't been able to find much about her, or anything specific on how to stop her. Castiel had come by and the three of them reached an agreement that most things could be stopped by running a stake through their hearts. But it seemed like there had to be more to it than just that. Circe was a demi-god, the daughter of Helios the sun god, according to Greek records. Sure running her through was great and all that but it didn't seem to be very practical.

When we'd returned yesterday, there wasn't much time for talk apparently. It was getting pretty bad with he men disappearing and animals turning up everywhere. Piglets seemed to be the majority, but there were puppies and rabbits too. I felt bad for the men if any of them had been killed as animals. We ate dinner and discussed what to do about Circe and how to find her. Castiel solved that problem this morning when he said he'd located her in a protected forest.

I was sitting in front of Sam's laptop, staring at the screen worriedly. It had taken me hours to find this one article. It said that Odysseus had been able to avoid being turned into an animal with the help of the messenger god Hermes who had given him an herb called moly. I'd never heard of this before. And the other sites had just told me that Odysseus had avoided being turned into an animal, not mentioning how. Some had specified Hermes having aided him but this was the first time I'd read something on this herb.

I'd tried to see what I could find out about this plant but most resources just said it was a mythical herb with white flowers and black roots. Or they told me about the onion. I wasn't entirely certain if what Hermes had given Odysseus was the same onion related moly as was the mythical moly he'd given him. I mean it was a god right, so it was entirely possible for it to be completely different and just a godly thing.

I wrapped my arms around my sides, trying to decide if I should phone either of the brothers. Neither of them had picked up the last time I called when I'd first encountered the name. Dean had gotten me a cell phone yesterday. A simple flip phone. Sam and he were my only contacts. I waited impatiently. If killing Circe didn't work then this herb was my best bet. If it could provide immunity it could probably also form the cure.

But if it wasn't the relation to onions that would work as a cure, how was I supposed to get a hold of the mythical one? If killing Circe didn't free the men and if she didn't do it willingly, this herb was the only cure. God forbid if either of the Winchesters got turned into an animal because I couldn't save them. A knock on my door broke my concentration and made me suspicious. I'd unpacked my throwing knives and secreted them in my clothing. One in each shoe and another around my neck. I didn't hide all six of them on me, because I wasn't going out to war. I tightened my grip on the one around my neck, the sheath tied to a simple rope.

I cautiously answered the door and saw Castiel standing there. Holding a piglet in his arms. I stepped aside to allow him in, afraid to ask who the pig was. "

"They drove a stake through her heart, but they had taken some of her food and drink. None of the missing men returned to their shape."

"Have you heard of an herb called moly?" he shook his head. I looked at the piglet, finding all too familiar green eyes staring at me. "Sorry Dean, but unless I find the moly herb you're going to be stuck like this."

He squealed in the suspicious trench coat wearer's arms and I looked to the angel questioningly. And then I noticed who was missing and I blanched. "Sam?" I asked tightly.

Castiel looked down at Dean-the-piglet. "I only found Dean."

"So my boyfriend is our wandering the streets… as a pig?"

"A puppy actually. I saw him just before he scampered off."

"And you couldn't catch him!"

"No," he replied coolly.

I sat down on one of the beds, and tapped my foot anxiously. I had no idea how I was supposed to find the mythical herb. That was beyond me. Maybe have a priest bless it or something… But that just meant that I had to go and find the moly onion relation. And Sam. I didn't him getting run over by a car before I could save him.

"Then just… stay here and look after Dean while I try to find moly." That just sounded awkward. Like I was trying to disguise that I was searching for money or something holy. But sadly that was the accursed thing's name.

"I cannot," he told me, extending the piglet towards me.

I shied away. "Why not?"

"There are currently eighteen men missing. It would be better if I helped find this moly plant, while you search for Sam."

I stared at him, briefly confused and he thrust the piglet into my arms. I winced. I hoped that he was clean because this was the new jacket that he'd just bought for me. "I'm gonna need at least one to free Sam from the spell."

"It might work that you merely feed one with moly and the spell crumbles."

"The mythology said that only Odysseus was-"

"Free from her grasp, yes. But he ate it beforehand. One from someone infected might alter everything." I nodded in reluctant agreement. He nodded back at me once. "What does this plant look like?"

"White flowers, black roots." He nodded once again and then disappeared with the graceful sound of butterfly wings following him. I looked down at Dean-the-piglet. "Looks like it's just you and me buddy," I told him. I wondered if he had any consciousness about this whole thing or if he had the mind of an animal. Would he even remember any of this when he woke up?

As I closed Sam's laptop and locked up their motel room, I remembered the signs I'd seen forbidding the presence of animals. I looked at the heavy pig in my arm and wondered if they would let it slide under the consideration that he was food. I doubted it. I smirked as I though of what Dean would do if he remembered any of this or was conscious for it. It was a rather amusing reaction to imagine.

I hadn't even made it down the stairs when Castiel reappeared holding out a plant with yellow leaves. "They told me this was moly."

"It has yellow flowers."

"It's the onion relation."

"Are you going to feed it to him?" I asked, holding the piglet away from me. It squealed indignantly.

"We have to see if it works," he reasoned shoving the plant at Dean-the-piglet. He bit into the plant and ate it, as though he knew that's what we were waiting for. No immediate change happened. "I will continue looking for the white flowers and black rooted form of moly," he told me before leaving again with his whispery butterflies.

I patted Dean-the-piglet soothingly on his back as I pulled him against me. "We'll get you back to your shape little guy." Sadly… I realized that I was going to miss him like this. So quiet. Well… quiet without his annoying comments. "And away we go," I murmured softly.

I went outside through a back door, blissfully avoiding the attention of any motel management. I looked down at my quiet piglet, which looked back up at me darkly. It was definitely Dean. "We made it lil' guy!" I cheered, knowing that if anything this had to be pissing him off.

And then, he savagely bit my finger. Which taught me my lesson for mocking him. I prayed that it wouldn't get infected, happy that the wound on my shoulder was nicely healing now that the infection had been cured. Cursing under my breath I tried to slow the blood flow and cradle Dean-the-piglet in my other arm. The metallic tang of blood in my mouth was revolting, but I was not going to get blood on this jacket. Not my own blood seeing as how it was preventable and everything.

So I walked around town like that. I had no idea where the Impala was. It'd serve Dean right to have his car stolen on him after biting me. But it was a pain to walk around with a piglet under my arm. Some people were giving me weird stares. A couple of times I had to actually look at Dean and make sure that I could still see those green eyes. I wasn't going crazy –this was Dean. And I was trying to find Sam. As a puppy there would have been people mentioning that an adorable pup had been seen downtown. There wasn't a word.

I made my way uptown again, hitting all the parks and hoping that Castiel would be able to find the mythical moly. I didn't want to have a puppy for a boyfriend! I loved animals, they were the most endearing creatures to me, but I wasn't going to date one. I had no idea how I would ever deal with something like that. It was too complex a thought so I stowed it away for later. My search for Sam in the parks resulted in nothing. No signs of an unclaimed puppy.

A moment of overwhelming panic hit me. What would I do I someone had adopted him? Or if he was trapped in the SPCA? I couldn't enter their building with a piglet. Well technically it was a human trapped in the form of an animal but I didn't think that would make anything better. I had to find Sam. He had to be here somewhere. But where was the million dollar question.

Dogs went to places like the park, or around food stands. I looked down at Dean-the-piglet. I really should've asked Castiel how he found Dean. Did he still possess any prior memories? In which case it might mean that Sam was waiting at the Impala, or that he'd returned to the motel. Already the sun was lowering itself from the zenith, getting closer to the nadir. I had a few hours left until nighttime. I jogged back towards the motel in the hopes that Sam would have returned there. I was panting by the time I was halfway there and I looked down at the piglet accusingly.

"You need to lose some weight –you're too heavy!"

Dean-the-piglet squealed shrilly, his cry loud enough to almost make me drop him. I held on tightly, and continued my pace. He was obviously still aware of what I was saying to him. Did that maybe fade after they'd been subjected to the spell's power? Could they actually become the animal forever? Cold fear washed through me and I hurried back up to the motel. I searched around but there was no sign of a puppy. Not a single one.

Where else could he be? Well assuming he still had some memories he could be on his way here. I looked down at Dean-the-piglet, sighing deeply. I was about to talk to the pig, and expect an answer back. I was about to look like a lunatic to the inhabitants of this world. "How well do you know where we are?" He squealed. It was an answer but I couldn't understand him. I set him done, his feet brushing the soft grass. "Please don't run away on me Dean," I muttered as I released him.

He stayed there looking up at me with his green eyes. He scratched against the ground with a hoof and I sighed. "I knew this wouldn't work," I admitted, sitting on the paved ground. What was I supposed to do know? There went my plan. Out the door, fare well, good bye, gone. Dean-the-piglet nudged me irritably and I looked over towards him. Shoddy writing was clear against the soft dirt. It read "motel" in a messy font.

"And where was it you fought Circe?" I asked eagerly, watching him eagerly as he wrote down his answer in the dirt. "First park" he wrote. First park? What first park -? Ah! The first park we'd been to! So then by that, that should mean that Sam had already made his way here. "Disoriented?" I quizzed him. He wrote down "yes." "But you know where you are…" He stomped at what he had just written down and I smiled at him.

That would mean that even though Sam was disoriented too, he would know where he was. If he was coming back from the first park that I had checked… That's where he would have to be! Happily I shot to my feet, picking Dean up with me and I kissed him on the snout. He snorted. "Thank you!" I proclaimed eagerly.

And then I paused and looked down at the piglet. I took a deep breath and looked away. Technically… _Technically_ mind you, I had just kissed Dean. The thought was too disturbing to comprehend and I pushed it away, a last minute thought following it. Hopefully he wouldn't remember this. I set off to go to the first park that I had gone to. If I was lucky… I would meet him along the way. From the park to the motel, taking another direction back than the one I had just taken, and I should encounter Sam along that route. That was my plan.

The flapping of light wings was all that warned me that Castiel was going to appear. The suspicious soul peerer in a trench coat regarded me. We were just about to leave the motel. In his hand I saw the moly. White flowers, black roots. It had to be the herb we needed.

"No changes from the onion relation?" he asked the piglet. Dean looked at Cas and the two made direct eye contact and the angel nodded thoughtfully, breaking off the moly and feeding it to Dean.

I prayed that this would work. I was done with the piglet. I set him down as he continued to munch on his herb. He finished chewing and that was when I noticed that he was writing something in the dirt. I watched cautiously as he finished it and then stretched comfortably and lay down. I looked over at the angel. "Did you just kill him?"

"I-I don't think so. They told me it would break the spell though."

"Hopefully by not killing them," I muttered. "Where did you get it?"

He glanced at me –at least the angel was of a normal height. Five foot eleven, only a couple inches difference. "A favor from… a friend."

I eyed him curiously and then looked back towards the piglet. Who was no longer a pig. Castiel calmly stepped in front of Dean and I heard him shifting and standing up. The angel pulled off his trench coat and handed it to Dean, who could see past him and was offering me a lewd gleam. "You're missin' out on this, babe."

"Keep it up and Sam will be having a nice sized ham when he gets home!" I called to him laughing, before I turned my back to them. I was pretty sure that there were ways in which I could revert him to a pig.

Castiel returned to my side, and I looked back at Dean wearing just a trench coat. With nothing underneath. Maybe the true purpose of a trench coat was to hide flashers or something. But oh god I did not want to see Dean do that. Just no way. I knew however, that he was just a sick, perverted man.

I looked back and noticed that he was jogging back to the motel, completely comfortable. I glanced over at Castiel, "How are you ever going to be able to wear that coat again?"

"With lots of soap," he replied straight faced. I couldn't help but laugh. He looked back at me, "If the moly worked, then that means that the entire spell could be crumbling. Sam will be reverted…"

I got what he meant and nodded. I was about to dart out of the motel parking lot when someone shouted my name. "Catch!" I stepped aside as a duffle bag was tossed out a nearby window. The bag hit the ground with a thump. "You were supposed to catch!" Dean yelled.

I looked up at him angrily, "And be crushed to death? Gee thanks!"

I lifted the duffle bag up and swung it over my shoulder, setting off at a jog to that first park that I'd been to. Somewhere along a route back from the park to this motel, I would find Sam. And hopefully before he was turned back into a human. I hoped that Castiel was right about the spell crumbling. If that one piece of moly could save the eighteen men who were stuck as animals….

I didn't actually think about what was in the duffle bag that Dean had tossed for me as I made my way to find Sam. My back was aching by the time I got to the first park. Duffle bags this big, were not meant to be hauled around on someone's back. But I had to find Sam. That was the priority here. It would be unpleasant if the spell was breaking and he found himself naked in a public place. I wanted to spare him from that.

I left from there, taking another route that I hadn't when I first came. According to the park map, it would lead me back to my motel. This way at least I wouldn't get lost and have to be found by some creeper. As I followed down the forest lined road, which was rather nice to see that the urbanization hadn't ruined it all. I thought I saw a small and dark form bolt through the undergrowth and I watched to see if anything emerged, hesitant to investigate further.

"Sam?" I called quietly, feeling like an idiot once again as I called out to no one. First I was talking to pigs, and now I was talking to myself. I continued wandering through the forest lined path, hoping that he would be here. He had to be here somewhere. "Sam?" I asked hopefully.

A small chocolate lab puppy crossed with border collie came bounding up from the brush behind me. The lab was apparent in the size, and the collie in the mannerisms it had. His tail was wagging happily and with a yelp he plopped down at my feet. I crouched down, looking into his eyes and seeing the familiar brown flecked with green.

"Oh Sam, you're still a puppy," I told him, half relieved. He jumped up, his tongue leaving a trail of slobber from my jaw to eye. I wiped it off looking at him, "Puppy slobber," I said, reaching down to pet him. He whined lightly. "I'm sorry," I told him, continuing to pet him. His fur was so soft. I wondered if that was what his hair would be like to stroke…

I pulled off the duffle bag from my shoulder to remove my leather jacket and spread it over him. If he didn't turn back, I was going to be carrying him back. He curled up then against me, his heavy breathing an indication that he was asleep. I could hear the branches rubbing against each other and I looked towards them to make sure that it really was what I had heard.

"Uh, Carissa?"

Startled I looked down at my lap where Sam's head now rested. A flush spread across my features as I realized that he was naked save for my favorite jacket, now covering him. If it had been any other jacket, I probably would have burned it. As things stood… I was going to have to wash it. Multiple times.

He reached over to the bag that Dean had given me, and he unzipped it and sighed in relief. "Could I have some privacy? I kind of need to get dressed…"

He leaned the duffle bag to the side and I saw denim fabric. Thank god for Dean. And did I really just think that? "Okay, I'll uh, go over there…" I pointed towards a large redwood and I all but ran at full speed towards it. I leaned against it, the back of the trunk towards Sam. Barriers were wonderful things. I looked up at the clear sky, taking deep breaths as I tried to calm myself. Naked men seemed to be everywhere today. I realized then that there would be eighteen other men to wake up naked yet. I shuddered. I viewed nudity as being a very private thing. Not for public display.

"I'm done." I jumped when I heard his voice and I opened my eyes to see him standing there. "How did I get here anyways? And why do I have all this muck in my hair?" He held out a muddy lock to me.

I reached out and pulled a leaf from it, the green contrasting nicely with his eyes. "You got turned into a puppy. You ate or drank something of Circe's."

"You saved everyone?" there was no trace of incredulity in his voice.

I shook my head sadly, "I found that moly was the only thing that could break the curse. Castiel retrieved the herb while I was out looking for you," I admitted. "And after Dean got restored, it kind of became a little panicked. I didn't think you'd appreciate uh, waking up, without…" I looked away knowing perfectly well that he knew what I meant.

He chuckled, and shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder. "You're right about that."

I looked back at him, slowly, meeting his eyes. It was nice to see them in a human face again. "I… I thought that I might… I might not get to see you again," I muttered. "I didn't know if…"

"If the curse would break?" he finished for me. I nodded. "I would've found you and you would have seen me again. I was on my way back," he told me softly, leaning towards me.

"I wanted my Sam," I admitted. I reached out to touch his face but stopped short. He was so close to me, again. I let my hand drop back to my side. This was the face I'd been worried about. "I wanted my human Sam."

"I'll always be yours," he whispered.

If he had been about to say anything else, I cut him off when I crossed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. He returned the kiss eagerly –

"Way to go Sammy!" I pulled back, groaning at the familiar hoot. I set my head against his chest.

He patted my back, and then he went to put my jacket around my shoulders. I glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was –"

"Sweet," I sneered. "But not happening. You're going to wash it first. Until you're bleeding if necessary."

He stifled a chuckle, "Fair enough. I did get dirt and mud on it."

"Are two coming or not?" Dean shouted from his precious Impala.

I grabbed his hand and towed him over to where Dean was idling. Sam got the door for me and I slid into the backseat, thanking him. He got into the passenger seat. Dean looked over to his brother. "Carissa's gonna be wearin' the pants in this relationship, isn't she?"

I snorted, "You just wish you could wear them as I good as I can."

"Not denying it Samantha."

"Can't deny she wears them when she's got such a great throwing arm."

"I wish I had something to throw right now," I growled, glaring at him through the seat. He would be washing that jacket and I would stand over him and watch him wash his dirt off of it.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely, turning to look back at me with big eyes. They reminded me of when he was a puppy.

I looked out the window. Hopefully neither of these two would put me through this whole fiasco again. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, resting my head against the seat behind me. I felt stressed and overworked.

* * *

_I wonder if the saying holy moly had anything to do with that plant and how it still manages to exist now._

_I kept writing about the moly or the moly plant and then I realized that to find out the true grammatical wording of it, I just switched it with parsnip. The parsnip or the parsnip plant. Made it a lot easier to figure out how to write about moly. I almost despaired of finding a way corresponding with Greek Myth to turn them back, but a small heading under one picture said that Hermes gave the hero moly. And then looked it up in the dictionary, and it told me it was either a relation of onions or a mythical plant with white leaves and black roots._

_Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm currently writing only one chapter ahead now, well sort of. I've been writing scenes out of order, actually. _

_Have a great day!_


	12. The Invitation

The Invitation

We were back at the motel, and Sam was sitting down on a tiled floor, scrubbing the dirt from my once pristine white leather coat. I was standing beside him, supervising to make sure that he cleaned it properly. Dean entered the room, looking at me watching Sam to his brother scrubbing the jacket carefully.

"Dude, you're her bitch."

"Only fair," Sam replied, pausing in his work to look back at me. "I was naked and covered in mud."

"Back to work bitch," I told him, smacking him with my broom. "You," I said, rounding on Dean, "out." I brandished my broom threateningly.

"Hey-" he started.

I turned from Sam, reaching out and smacking him on top his head with the broom. He flinched back. "_Out_," I repeated, poking him with it.

He went to grab the bristles but I shoved them back at him again. "Just go Dean," Sam said.

I yanked the broom from Dean and lightly tapped Sam with it. "You just focus on getting those stains out," I growled before turning back to Dean.

"Violent!" he yelled before stepping past the doorway. I looked at him, waiting for him to move away and he very slowly did so. I nodded in satisfaction before turning to supervise Sam's work again.

When he finally removed the stains from it, I allowed him to leave. I hung my jacket in the closet of my room and returned the broom. I was happy that after tonight, we would be leaving this place. It was great that we were leaving Winston, it'd be even better when we left North Carolina.

I sank down against my bed, setting my head in my hands. A tired yawn escaped my lips. When a knock sounded against my bedroom, I frowned and sat up. "Yes?"

There was no reply, only a knock. Hesitantly I opened my unlocked door to see a familiar face. I went to slam my door on her face, but she knew I was going to do it and threw her weight against the door. "No," I told her, forcing the door back. The strain in my voice was obvious, as I put all of my weight into it.

"Carissa," she scowled, pushing back. "You can't keep on running like this. You're behaving like a spoiled twit!" She got the door wedged open, sticking her foot between it and the frame. "Don't you dare…"

"I didn't invite you here," I snarled, "so go away!"

"What's all the fuss here…?"

Of all the things that I had blamed Dean for, this one took the trophy. She got the door open on me and made it into my room. I couldn't lock her out now. Dean looked at me innocently and I slammed the door against him. Sure I was behaving like an angry teenager, but I'd just been reduced to one.

"I don't want anything to do with you, or the family."

"Then what are you doing back here? Reminiscing?" she sneered.

"Beatrice…"

"Nice to know you still know my name."

I laughed at that, "Nice of you to know mine," I threw back at her. "Last time I believe it was said that I was nothing more than a worthless devil child, hereby disowned from my family!"

"You were insane and deluded," she retorted, shifting her faux fur coat and sitting down on my bed.

"You were my sister!" I shouted back.

She tutted disapprovingly, "Don't wake the neighbors Carissa, they wouldn't like it."

"I don't like you being here."

She sighed, "Mom would love to see you, and so would Eli. He misses you –I would've thought you'd at least return his phone calls. You knew Dad bullied him into it."

I scoffed, "Like Alver would have let him phone me without listening in to make sure I didn't pick up the phone. If I had he would've arrested me, or something. Sent me back to the hospital."

"They have medicines out for you now though. You don't need to keep up with all this, Cari."

"_Don't call me that._"

"I have since I was four," she retorted primly. "Now grow up, take a seat and talk like a grown-up for one bloody minute."

I did as told, wishing I could hate her. She had turned her back on me. So had my parents. Eli and Daniella had both been forced to do it seeing as they were too young to really understand anything. Hell, I'd been too young to fully understand what they'd done to me until it was too late.

"Cari," she said in retaliation, "one night. They're getting us all back together. Eli's been off in college, and Daniella's living with a boyfriend –you and I have been on our own for a while now." Me longer than you, I thought, but I didn't say anything. "It's one dinner. You can bring a friend or two, if it'll make you feel better."

"They haven't invited me," I told her curtly, cursing Lyn Ecric for letting this information get back to my nosy sibling.

"Mom would love you to come home. She'd love to see you once more, know that you haven't…"

"Haven't what?" I demanded.

"Died," she replied tightly, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear.

"She thought I was dead?" I asked incredulously.

"We all did," she admitted. "You were fifteen when they kicked you out Cari! You can't honestly think that normal people would assume you'd…"

"'Normal people,'" I quoted her, smiling tightly. "Thanks for that Bea. Love how you always throw in the insult when I'm not expecting it. 'Cause crazy people have enough trust in their children to think that they raised them right and that they won't die on the streets."

"Cari…"

"I told you not to call me that," I snapped.

"You should come at least once. You have to face that we have the same blood running through our veins."

"Which is exactly why I'm not going," I growled. "When I left, I told you, you Beatrice, that I would never step foot in that goddamned house ever again."

"We live in a different house," she supplied, smiling hopefully, her pearl blue eyes meeting mine fearlessly. "You're an adult Cari. You have to deal with this somehow and you might as well let everyone know you're… alright."

"You were about to say sane weren't you?" I asked dryly. "You all thought I would be dead and buried by now, nothing but bones in a nameless grave somewhere having died a heathen's death."

"Don't say it like that!" she protested, jumping to her high heeled feet. "I made a mistake that night. I know damn well I did but I made my peace! I made my peace when I thought you were dead. Then I heard you were alive and I came over here to make it with you Cari. We're _sisters_."

I turned away from her, "Which makes what you did, all the worse," I whispered. "You threw me from my own house to the streets because our parents _lied._ I was diagnosed with BPD, Bea. I couldn't afford the medication on the streets and I couldn't get off of them either. I tried and it was a long time before I found out how to. And then I managed a daycare facility, and I worked there too. Where I was happiest."

"Then what're you doing back here?"

At that moment there was a knock on my door and I knew who it was. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Yeah?"

"Dean said he'd heard you yelling earlier and saw some chick trying to break in… Everything alright?"

I looked across at Beatrice, her blonde hair formed in perfect ringlets to her shoulders and her eyes adorned with expensive cobalt blue shadow. Her full lips glossed with ruby red, and her cheeks lightly rouged. Her eyebrows plucked and her skin slightly tanned. She was a very beautiful woman, my sister, she had always been and probably always would be.

"Of course," I replied. "Then again if you really were worried about it you'd come in to check anyways wouldn't you?"

I heard my door open, and watched as Sam entered. He saw my guest, "Oh I'm sorry, I…."

"Cari," she said loudly –she never bothered to be quiet when she didn't have to be, "who is that?"

I glanced between the two of them and sighed. "Meet my sister Beatrice, sister meet my boyfriend Sam."

"You got yourself a delightful looking man Cari. How'd you managed that?"

"Cari?" Sam asked, taken aback. I looked at him apologetically.

"Carissa's such a strict name and was ever yelled so much," Beatrice explained, "that I decided to call her Cari. Because she's light and fun too, not just the trouble child."

I glanced at Beatrice again, "Well it was lovely to see you…"

She fished in her leather purse for a moment, handing me a card. "This is the address and my phone number, if you get lost. We'll wait for you Cari, honestly we will. Just… come for dinner tomorrow."

She walked past Sam, being the wonderful sister that she is, and she thankfully didn't hit on him. I supposed that it was good, what with things between us already so rocky. She didn't need to add anymore drama to things. I sighed in relief, and Sam closed the door behind him, probably in case she was lingering outside or to stop Dean from intruding. I sat back down on my bed, unsure of when I had gotten to my feet.

Sam sat down beside me and he put his arm around me. I leaned against him, inhaling his distinct scent, a myriad of soil and pine, tinged with peppermint. I could feel his muscular chest rising and falling with each breath he took, and he set a large, strong hand against my back, holding me to him.

"You alright?"

I nodded feebly against him. "It's just been… a really stressful day."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't get turned into a puppy."

"I'm sorry about that."

I reached out to his hand which was resting on his knees and I twined my fingers through his. "I don't know if I'll go to my family dinner… But if I decide to go… will you come with me?"

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, "Of course I will."

"Dean can come too," I added. "Not that I want him as a tagalong but he'll probably make an exceptional decoy."

He chuckled, and I could feel the laughter through his body, "Use him as a scapegoat to explain any unwanted behavior on your part?"

I laughed at that, "I think that might be a little harsh. Even for him."

"Have you become fond of him?" he teased lightly.

I chortled and pulled out the throwing knife from around my neck, "Only because he provided me with something to harm him with." I smiled, "Not that he's the only target I intend to incapacitate."

Silence fell between us then, comfortable and easy. The sound of us breathing and his heartbeat were the only noises to stir the room. Tomorrow I could go and see my family again. I knew that Beatrice had a point, that as an adult I had to try and face them. But I was being selfish and I didn't care how much pain my family was in. I was still suffering from what they had done to me. Yet maybe Bea, Eli and my mother had all missed me and felt the pain for it. Daniella was too young to understand any of it and Alver, my father, had done most of the arranging for it.

If I went, it would be the last time I ever saw them. They disowned _me_. I didn't run away from home, from my troubles. Home ran away from me. I hated it. There was nothing I could do to face them either, not really. If I went I wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as could be. I just didn't want to get caught up in any of this. I wanted it to go away and leave me alone.

Going meant dealing with everything that I didn't want to have to go through again. That lousy home life, the drunken antics and the old ways that things were done. I closed my eyes, exhaling. I really didn't want to do it. Part of this was doing things that I didn't want to do. And I really didn't want to go back. At the same time I knew that dealing with it would help. I could put this place behind me, further and block it all out. I wouldn't have to come back and see them again. This could be like the real good bye, not just the "here's your bags, get out, you're disowned" one that I'd gotten at fifteen.

I was in the hospital for a year before they decided that I really had BPD and that I needed medication. Things were really hazy during that time. Like I was constantly drugged, which I was. My reaction to drugs became more prominent after I had quit taking the medication for my disorder. When I was released to go home, no one really thought that I would be kicked out. But I mean honestly, what family _wants_ to have a crazy teenager on their hands? Toss in all the regular teenager drama that everyone complains about and mix in insanity and see how well it goes over.

If I could get past this, I wouldn't have to deal with it. That stupid angel couldn't make me go back and relive it if I moved on. It may have been the worst moment in my life, but I had never moved beyond it, merely locking it all up did nothing but let me forget about it. And at times the bitter sting still came back for another go. My family… I didn't know but maybe after dealing with them I could move on. I sighed. I didn't want to have to go back there.

"You've been awfully quiet," Sam teased. I squeezed his hand, having heard him but having nothing to say. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"Whether to go to my family or not," I replied quietly. "I… I'm thinking I should. I don't want to, I really don't want to, but I think… I think I have to."

"Not prove yourself to them, surely?"

"No. Just to myself. I need to know that I can face my past. At least while I'm in this town I might as well."

"Carissa…"

I sat up, and he moved his hand from my back to rest at his side. I looked at him, inches away from me. I was done talking about this. I was going to go tomorrow night, if I could. Assuming it wouldn't mean Dean and Sam abandoning me here. That would be very unpleasant. He moved closer towards me, I could feel the softness of his breath mingling with mine. We were so close. I waited or him, to say something, to do something. He shifted to move in, to kiss me and I was happy and waiting to feel his lips against mine.

My door however was thrown open the next moment, startling me back and Sam just sighed and turned to look at his brother standing in the door way. That arrogant bastard! I scanned the room for something to throw at him, something non-lethal. I wanted him alive first so that I could skin him, and then I would let him die. How many times did he have to barge in on me? I glanced at Sam, noticing that he only seemed mildly irritated. I wondered how often this happened to him.

Dean seemed oblivious to the fact that he'd disturbed us. Or maybe he was just pretending… I kept searching for something non-lethal. My eyes fell on a pillow and I almost grabbed it to throw except I realized that he could make a comment that would let me put aside my fears of throwing something lethal at him.

"I just got invited to a dinner tomorrow," he said, waving a small pink business card in the air. "We'll be staying here another day."

"That's great," I said forcing a beaming smile towards him. "My sister also invited me to one and I'm bringing Sam." I pulled out Beatrice's card, a very similar pink one. "Oh look, I think it's the same address and everything."

He frowned at me, before looking at the card. "You two don't seem related," he grumbled, stowing it into his pocket.

I scoffed, "She's only older than me, prettier than me, more spoiled than me and even has less anger issues than I've got. Hm. Personality wise –we've nothing in common."

Dean stared at me skeptically. "How did you get invited?" Sam inquired.

"I was headin' downstairs after I told you 'bout the shouting and she met me down the stairs. Started talkin' and she said she was having this dinner tomorrow and she didn't want to face her sister alone." He looked to me at this, and I pointedly avoided his gaze. "I told her that I'd love to come. Haven't had a good home cooked meal in ages."

I looked between the brothers as Sam nodded his head in agreement. "You do know, that I _can_ cook, yes?"

"Without poisoning the food?" Dean demanded dryly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Sorry, I'm fresh out of poison. When you get some, let me know and I'll make it a priority." Sam laughed. I looked over at him, smiling before I turned back to Dean. "You know, I would be happy to make you guys something tomorrow before we have to go for my family dinner…"

It seemed that the prospect of two home cooked meals was too much for Dean. He let the thoughts of me poisoning him go. "Are you a good cook?"

"Pretty good," I said, shrugging. "If you want to know you'll have to taste it."

He nodded reluctantly, "Fine."

I grinned at him and he smiled back. "You should probably let your sister know then, that we're coming right?"

I agreed and shooed both men from my room, telling them that I would make lunch tomorrow and shoving a list of ingredients into Sam's hands. I closed my door behind me, leaning against it as I fumbled for my phone and dialed Beatrice's number with shaky hands. This was the last time I was going to talk to them, it was the least that I could do.

"Hello?" she answered on the first ring.

"It's Cari," I told her softly. "I'll be coming for that dinner with my boyfriend."

"That's great!" I could hear the exuberance in her voice.

"Uh, so I'll see you… tomorrow then?"

"Yup. But remember –you have to bring your famous salad!" She giggled and disconnected the call.

I sighed and headed over to the brothers' room to adjust the list. I added the ingredients for the silly little salad I'd made one year for Christmas. I was glad that I got to Sam before he'd left to go shopping. We were expected tomorrow night at six o'clock sharp.


	13. The Exception to Her Rule

The Exception to Her Rule

"Need help?" Sam asked me.

I stirred a pot absently, "No. I'm making this for you guys so go and relax."

"You sure?"

I looked at him skeptically. "Let the woman do her work Sammy!" Dean called from the other room.

"Sure." I made a shooing motion towards him. "I'll call you to get the food so I don't burn myself though," I told him, half teasing.

"Okay Cari," he said, walking out. I tensed.

I saw him sit down on the couch. Dean looked at him curiously, "Did you just call her Cari?"

"Did I…?"

"I'll pepper your meal for ya if you continue," I growled, making sure they could both hear me.

I set the timer for when lunch would be ready. I walked to the small sitting area and turned towards my boyfriend. "Sammy may get the chicken at the timer," I said primly, mocking his nickname in retaliation for using mine.

Sam looked to the kitchen. "Cute the lovebirds have nicknames," his brother drawled.

"At least Sammy is cute; Deanie is just a grumpy old man," I retorted.

"I'm the pretty one."

"You wish."

The timer sounded then and Sam went to get the chicken, serving it out too. He handed me my plate, leaving Dean to get his own. I smiled at him, "Thanks Sammy," I said, putting salad on my plate.

"You're welcome Cari."

I winced, it would take some getting used to for him to be calling me that. Beatrice was the only one who ever did it. And how dare she let it slip in front of him. But I wasn't actually angry, at either her or him for calling me that. I glanced towards Sam as I took my seat, wondering if it was really possible to get mad at him. It was so easy to get mad at Dean, but it seemed like it was pretty hard to get mad at Sam.

I looked between the two brothers, waiting for them to eat first. I was curious to know if they liked my cooking. Dean took a seat opposite me at a nearby chair; Sam was sitting next to me. I glanced to my boyfriend, nervous and hopeful that he would like the food. He took a bite, nodding appreciatively. I looked across at Dean, apprehension fluttering. His opinion mattered too, sadly. I couldn't just stuff it in a garbage can and light it on fire.

"Thish ish goud," he remarked, his mouth full.

I turned to my lunch, and took a small bite of the tender chicken. It was seasoned excellently and lightly flavored with some barbeque sauce. And the salad I'd made at Beatrice's request, I had made extra so that I could test and see if it was even worth bringing. Dean I noticed had not avoided it like I'd been expecting. Sam had taken some, unsurprisingly and so had I. I turned my attention to it, wondering how bad it could be. I picked at the romaine, and then decided to just get my suspense over and done with it and tossed it into my mouth.

It didn't taste too awful. Could have used some more seasoning and a little more dressing, topped with some cheese and it could have been good. It was rather bland as was though and not very delectable. The chicken was much better and I returned my attention towards it, picking all the meat from the bone and enjoying it thoroughly.

Once I had finished, I took my dishes out to clean. By the time I'd finished cleaning, they were done eating. I collected the dishes once they were done and threw the plastics out, washing off the other ones. I'd had to forbid Sam from helping me. I glanced towards the pot and noticed that there were no leftovers remaining. I smiled –those two certainly had appetites. As I reached for the pot, both brothers plucked it from my grasp and set it over to the sink. I tried to get back over but neither of them would let me.

Sam looked back at me, smiling, "You went to all the work of cooking this…"

"We can at least clean it up for you," Dean finished, picking up a scrub brush.

I nodded obediently, and returned to sit down. I was a little shocked and unaccustomed to having anyone help out with much. Of the men that I had dated, it had never really been serious and I'd never actually cooked for them before. Nicolai had always invited me over to his place when he was having a dinner and then he was usually ordering takeout. I wasn't used to this at all. I fidgeted uncomfortably and glanced back to where I could see both of them washing and drying. It was… nice.

They put the dishes away and came to sit down. I smiled at them gratefully and glanced at the clock anxiously. It was only one thirty. I had almost four hours left until I had to be there. Beatrice was going to come and pick me up so that I could get ready for dinner. I was expected to shift my attire to be more presentable, which I was not looking forward to.

"I'm nervous about this dinner," I admitted, looking between the two of them.

"You don't have to worry. Sam will be with you and so will I."

I smiled, "I'm grateful you'll be there." I looked at Dean, adding reluctantly, "Both of you." I shook my head afterwards, disbelieving that I might be happy he was going to be there too. I turned to hug Sam, and paused, "Would you like a hug too?"

"No thanks, I've had enough boyfriends pissed off from a hug with their girlfriends before. I'll pass."

"Only when the girlfriend was a boyfriend," Sam retorted.

I turned to Dean, mock offended, "I am a woman, whether you are deluded or dreaming or otherwise, you should know that."

Dean grumbled something about Sam before he got to his feet, storming from the room. I turned to Sam. "I hope you're still mine," I teased lightly. "Not abandoning me for anyone…?"

"No, no. I met this nice little puppy down at the park that rolled over for me." He grinned, chuckling. "Of course I'm still yours."

I smiled at him, not really relieved because I hadn't been worried in the first place. He leaned in and kissed me on the check and I wrapped my arms around him. "I'm not going to be able to last 'till dinner with all this anxiety," I complained. And it was true, if I had to sit around for hours with nothing to do, I would just end up over thinking this entire thing. And I didn't want that.

Dean reentered the room with a bottle of water in his hand. He glanced between us, taking the same seat he'd vacated barely five minutes ago. He tipped the bottle back, taking a swig, "Ugh you two are like love sick teenagers."

I glared at him, not letting go of Sam, "Can I practice knife throwing now?" I asked, grinning at my boyfriend.

"No. That's Sammy's responsibility."

I sighed dramatically, letting go of Sam. "You're no fun."

"You want fun? Go training –it'd be a great idea since Sam's too girly to make a move!"

"I think I just found the perfect target."

"I could also teach you hand-to-hand combat," Sam offered.

"Sounds like a good idea," I agreed.

"You may want to change into something you don't mind getting wrecked with sweat."

"Give me five minutes," I told him, rushing to my room. I'd cooked in theirs, just because it was easier. I dug through my duffle bag, pulling out cargo shorts and a boring t-shirt that I didn't care for. It was the closest I had. I would've changed into sweats if I had any, but everything had been so rushed it was something that must've been overlooked.

I returned their room, locking mine behind me. Sam frowned slightly, "You're going to need sweats." I didn't argue.

"You're lucky it's Sam, he hits like a girl," Dean interjected.

I'd been waiting for him to say something, he'd been awfully quiet. I turned to him, "I don't think you'd ever intentionally lay a hand against me. And I have faith in that."

Dean stuck his tongue out childishly and Sam grabbed my hand, leading me down through the motel. I followed behind him, confident that he knew where we would be heading and how to get there. "Dean won't train you because he refuses to hit girls since he's afraid to hurt them."

I snickered, "It's admirable in its own way." I paused as we left the motel. "Where is that we're going?"

"The park where you found me: it's got a nice area for practice."

I nodded, and we made out way towards the park. The walk felt so familiar after yesterday that it was almost eerie. He kept his hand around mine, and I walked at his side which was more reasonable. His large steps still made it a little bit of a challenge to keep up with him, but he seemed to be walking slower than he usually would which was pleasant in its own way. It wasn't until we got to the park that I made a comment.

"You guys seem upbeat for this kinda thing."

He led us into a small copse of trees. "Who would want help from gloomy people?"

"Crazy people?" I asked, looking around the abandoned area. The tall redwoods over shadowed the entrance, and it was quite lovely. The sunlight filtered through a fresh breeze blew through welcomingly.

"Some girls ask us for help just because we 'good looking,'" he explained, letting go of my hand and stopping behind me.

I grinned up at him impertinently, "You guys aren't _that_ great to look at."

He chuckled and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me against him. "Dean's the usual draw because he's the pretty one."

I giggled against him; I didn't see how that worked out. "You're the better looking one." I paused, "Y'know I'd say that you deserved more attention if you didn't have me."

He laughed, "Are you ready to learn combat?"

I looked up at him, "If you're willing to let go of me," I replied, indicating his hands around me.

He smiled and let me go, neither of us stepping away from the other. I twisted to look up at him though, so I could see his face. He was looking down at me, as he was probably accustomed to doing with most people. "What do you know about fighting?"

"I watched some basic boxing lessons, and I know how to make the correct fist," I stepped away from him, and demonstrated it, by forming a fist and not tucking my thumb in.

"Throw me a punch," he said, taking a half a step back. I did as he said so, but slowly. I didn't want to hurt him or anything. He set his hand around mine, "Throw me an actual punch this time," he told me, releasing my fist.

I paused, realizing that whatever I did would be pointless. He knew how to defend himself better than I did. Besides I was the student here and he was the instructor. I had to go through with this. It came down to one thing though. I trusted him, and so I punched him. He blocked my blow easily, grasping my arm and offering me his easy, dimpled smile.

"Good punch."

I sighed, fighting an exasperated smile and relief that he'd blocked me. I suppose it would've been rather sad if he had failed to stop my blow but still… "What next?" I asked warily.

"Do you know how to kick properly?"

I stared at him blankly and kicked like I would if I were going to pass a soccer ball. He shook his head and stepped back for some more room.

"You should turn your body," he explained as he moved his right foot back and turned lightly. "You always kick with the side or the top of your foot so you don't break your toes and then you twist." He demonstrated this.

I mimicked his positioning and followed through with the movement. He smiled and showed me how to snap my foot to give the kick a good sting. I snapped my foot as he had, trying hard to be a good student.

"Go ahead and kick me now," he said, smiling.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, reminding myself that Sam would stop my kick. He knew how to and the point of this was to see if I'd learned what he'd just shown me. I attempted to kick him as he taught me but he didn't block the blow and grunted at the contact.

"That actually hurt," he muttered. "Not only can she throw, but she can kick too."

"Of course it would hurt you idiot!" I shouted. I huffed in concern, looking at him. "Are you okay?" Before he had time to answer I overrode him. "And why the hell didn't you block?" I exhaled deeply, "I'm sorry."

He waited a moment before responding. "I wanted to see what sort of power you had. Congratulations on being stronger than you look." And of course, there was no teasing or even sarcasm when he said it. But I wasn't happy about the compliment having come at his own expense. "You could always kiss it better," he teased, but his eyes were serious.

I lightly smacked him across the shoulder, "I don't find it funny," I retorted stiffly.

He smiled and put a little more distance between us yet again. "We should move onto blocks now. I promise I won't hit you too hard."

I glared, "So eager to move onto more pain?" I muttered darkly, making sure it was under my breath to prevent him from hearing. "Anything specific I should do?"

"It's easier to show than to make you learn."

"Try and not bruise me?" I asked, shifting into a more balanced stance.

He punched me at what I could only assume was a slow pace for him, but was fast enough for me. I provided only a clumsy block. "You have to watch your opponent!" he called, throwing another punch faster than the last. I failed to block it, only clipping the underside of his hand.

His fist landed without as much force as I had feared behind it. He _was_ being gentle, well as gentle as combat training would allow. "Do you want to try again, or take a break?" he asked, not unkindly.

I rubbed at my cheek, taking the sting from it. "I'm fine," I told him, adapting to my stance.

He punched me and this time I managed a successful block. He smiled at me and before I even knew that it was coming, he swung a kick and landed it. It was still a gentler kick than the speed should have granted, but it hurt enough on its own. Waves of pain munched against my leg. He barked for me to pay attention, this time not offering me a chance to recover before kicking again. I was on alert this time and blocked it perfectly, breathing a sigh of relief.

I took this moment to remind myself that it was my own insanity that had me sign up to have boyfriend beat on me; it wasn't his fault. If I didn't learn this, here and now, then I would find that these little injuries he had caused me would be crippling blows or death shots.

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming up to my side. "I didn't mean to hurt you if I did."

"I'm trying not to blame you for this," I said through clenched teeth, fighting my anger back. It wasn't his fault, but mine and it was necessary.

"Sorry. You can hit me if it'll make you feel better."

"It'll only make me feel worse," I told him, sighing. He frowned lightly, worried about me. "I don't want to hurt you either, but I know it's important and I just needed a minute to sort my anger out. I don't want to blame you –it's not your fault."

He nodded, smiling gently and sat down, his long legs stretched out. I sat down beside him as well, setting my hand over his. We stayed like that for a few moments of enjoyable silence.

"How's your leg?" I asked, smiling guiltily for having been the one to cause it. I'd gone all out on that kick, not really checking my strength. I'd expected him to block it!

"Fine, little sore, but that's my fault for not blocking."

"Ever going to intentionally not guard again?"

"That was for research purposes only. I'm gonna be blocking every time from now on."

Tranquil silence passed again, and I felt a little better that he at least wasn't even the tiniest bit upset with me for it. I really didn't want to hurt him either, but I'd done more damage to him than he'd done to me. Then again, if he hadn't checked his strength I'd probably be unconscious if not suffering from a bruised bone or something.

"I've gotten into fights with siblings before and a fair few when I was on the streets," I told him, "but never like this." Never in a learning environment, or a learning way. They'd either been a little kid's scrap or a life-or-death fight.

"What was it like, living on the streets?" he glanced to me, cautious and worried.

I realized that he probably thought it was a tender question. When I'd just got off the street it would have been, but I'd made my peace with it since. Well, as much of a peace as I could get. If you didn't make your peace, then you just ended back there in that hellhole.

I shrugged, "Cold and dark. Lonely. I couldn't trust anyone and they couldn't trust me. They stole my stuff; I stole theirs. Nighttime I had to sleep with my medication so they couldn't steal it and sell it off, leaving me senseless. That was back when I thought there was something wrong with me too."

He squeezed my hand, "That must've been so horrible."

"It was a blur a lot of the time, 'cause of the meds." I sighed, and squeezed his hand back.

"I don't understand how taking drugs makes people feel normal."

"Because you don't feel anything and you know the other people aren't feeling anything either."

I glanced at him, suddenly a little worried that I might have said too much. I wasn't entirely sure just how much I was willing to talk about that time, about those memories. I'd made my peace as best I could, but that didn't mean I was ready to talk about what I'd done. There were times when I wished I knew what I'd done under the drugs, and there were times when I prayed that I never found out.

He nodded. "There was a time where I… I was out of control. Dean, he, he watched me crash and burn. It's scary to not know what you last did, but even scarier still to find out you have no control."

I had to agree with that. I leaned against him, squeezing his hand supportively. "I had no one to watch me spiral out of control or even care that I was a homeless kid. I hit rock bottom before I even knew what it was and I had to fight harder than I've ever fought to get out."

He pressed a gentle kiss against my cheek. "I'm happy you made it out and can talk about your past openly. I know what it's like to hide a part of you because it's too painful to talk about and acknowledge."

A strangled laugh escaped me. Open? How did he think I'd been open about this, exactly? I was fifteen when I was kicked onto the streets. I had to have my meds and I didn't have any money. Shouldn't one wonder at _how_ I got them? That was what I wasn't so keen on discussing. That was the dark part to me, to know what I'd done when I'd been so desperate for something that was supposed to make me better when all it did was cripple me. But I didn't need to talk about it. I knew what I'd done, and I knew why I had done it. I wasn't going to do it again, and I'd never go back there. It was as simple as that for me.

"You're the only person I've ever talked to about BPD and my employee, Nico, he suspected the bit about having lived on the streets but I never talked about it."

Sam smiled comfortingly, "You didn't hesitate to tell me, not really at least, and to me that counts as openly speaking of it."

He was going to have to make his peace with whatever he'd done sometime or it would take him back down to where he'd managed to crawl up from. I'd seen it enough. People left the streets and they came back, in a month, or a year, but they did come back. My first year on the street was the only time I had proof that someone had gotten out from the filth we'd buried ourselves in. He got out, and then he walked back down one day. Dressed in all fine clothes, and when I'd begged for some money, he'd laughed and walked away. I had cursed him with every fiber of my being for a long time. And then, once I'd been employed for a while and quit taking my meds, I got brave enough to go back to where I'd come from. There was a girl there, begging. And I'd laughed and walked away, not dropping her a single cent. She was just like me. Everyone down there was. That was the street where those in need for meds worked, and they lined the place like cockroaches. I'd once been one. And I hoped that that girl, realized that I'd gotten free from that place and that she would one day too. But I didn't have a lot of faith in that.

I leaned towards Sam, giving him a light peck on his lips, wondering what it would be like to tell him about all this. All the bad things that I didn't really want to talk about. I smiled, "You're just easy to talk to and I feel comfortable and unridiculed when I tell you all this."

"You're far too sweet. I think it's time for you to cut back on the sugar."

I laughed, "Only because we'll be meeting the salt for dinner."

He checked his watch, sighing. "It's three thirty. Time passes too quickly, it needs to slow down."

I sighed too. "We'd better head back so we can get ready." Beatrice would be there at five to pick me up. "It was a much better time than I initially expected."

* * *

_For those of you curious about Daniella's age, she's eighteen. But she's shorter in stature and acts very childish which makes her seem younger, hence all the references to her being a teenager._

_I was so happy to see a review. I was getting despaired that perhaps no one was really reading this story, despite what my traffic said..._

_But thank you for the review! It made my day and I hope you all have a great day! Enjoy!_


	14. Family Reunion

_Thank you all so much for the reviews -I loved them. They make me very happy._

_The idea for Carissa's family is that they are old fashioned. Very old fashioned. Mostly from Alver's influence. So that explains her attire. (Daniella makes too much of a fuss quite often, so she gets her way, which is why her attire is so different)_

_Have a great day!_

* * *

Family Reunion

Even Dean was unable to not notice the large house that they drove up to, with its long winding driveway and balconies and tree lined yard, it stood out quite distinctly. According to the card Beatrice had given him, this was the correct address. He parked the Impala and got out, heading towards the door. An old woman greeted him and Sammy at the house, her thick black hair heavily streaked with gray and her face wrinkled from age.

"You must be Carissa's friends," she said, looking between them. She smiled at Sam, "And you must be her boyfriend. I'm Faya Corwin, her mother," she added.

"You have a lovely house," Dean remarked, and from what he could see of the interior it was large and spacious with expensive furniture.

"Thank you," she replied happily. "Please, please come on in."

Carissa was standing at the door, looking awkward and uncomfortable. She fidgeted irritably in a skirt that someone had to have forced her into. It was pale pink with a floral design –there was no way she would have worn it on her own. A white blouse with matching buttons to the skirt only made it worse. It was far too feminine for her and made her look innocent. Which was a word that he would never choose to describe her. Suspicious, guilty, charming maybe. Never innocent.

Dean took off his shoes, and his coat, setting them where Faya directed. Sam followed suit. Carissa led them into the living room, apologizing quietly for her mother who had to go take care of supper. She stopped short of the couch, and an older man was rising to his feet. He had a leathery face with stern lines on them, and whispery gray hair that had to have been blonde once upon a time. He stood up straight that man, with an intense sort of gaze, his hard gray eyes meeting Dean's.

"Nice to meet you boys," he said, thrusting his hand towards them. He was only a couple inches shorter than Dean.

"Dean Winchester," he said shaking the man's hand. He had a very firm grip.

"Sam Winchester," his brother replied, also shaking hands.

The old man took his seat, indicating for them to do the same. Sam reached for Carissa's hand comfortingly before sitting down. "Alver Corwin," he told them, reaching for a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up. He grinned, his teeth un-yellowed, probably from good dentistry. "New habit I picked up after I quit drinkin'."

Carissa settled on the couch between Dean and Sam with a rustle of her skirt, avoiding direct eye contact with her father. She certainly seemed on edge. He noticed then that she too was sitting properly. He tried to think of a time when he could remember her slouching, but he'd never given it much notice before.

"So what do you boys, uh, do?"

"Mechanic."

"I'm going to be a lawyer."

Alver paused, looking at Sam rather skeptically. "That's… mighty good. Eli, my boy, he's going to be a prosecutor one day."

A series of thumps came from the stairs, and a younger girl stood there nervously. "Father…"

"Daniella, meet Dean and Sam Winchester. This is Daniella, she's my youngest. Just turned fifteen."

She looked it too. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a plait that hung over her shoulder. She was wearing a vibrant red, low cut sweater with a short red and black plaid skirt and black tights. It was a humorous contrast between her and Carissa. That teenager probably had most of the boys at her school wrapped around her little finger. She waved towards them, not saying anything before she stalked off into the kitchen. Carissa hadn't even reacted to her sister's presence.

"She's a little shy sometimes," he told them, chuckling. "Oh! And this is Eli, my boy! Meet Dean and Sam Winchester," he said, indicating the guests.

Eli looked around twenty years old, clean shaven with a lean build. He probably played a sport of some kind. He was actually wearing normal clothes. Plain blue jeans and a jersey shirt, something a kid seen on the street might be wearing.

"Hey," he said, reaching to shake their hands. His shake was lighter than his father's, obviously not someone trying to test their strength or anything. "Bea just called, said she'd be here shortly." He looked at Carissa and smiled, "She was really glad you came."

Dean was shocked when she didn't roll her eyes. She smiled tightly instead, "Always happy to be home," the strain in her voice gave it away about how unhappy she was to be here. But she'd wanted them to come, and here they were, and she was set to go through with the entire thing. According to Sammy anyways.

Eli took a seat on the vacant love seat and Carissa sat up abruptly. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, looking between Dean and Sammy.

"I'm fine thanks," Sam replied.

"A glass of water would be great," he admitted, wondering what smart ass comment she'd fire back at him. She had asked though.

But she didn't say anything and instead just got to her feet and headed out to the kitchen. Alver waited until she had reentered the room before he said anything. "It's always been a real fight to get that girl in a skirt –she's never worn a dress. It always saddens me that she can't be more feminine."

Carissa handed Dean his water and he was mildly surprised to notice the floating ice cubes, and she sat down beside him and Sam again. She didn't say anything to her father's comment either. Dean took a refreshing sip of his ice water. "I think Carissa's feminine in her own way," Sam stated.

Dean snorted and shook his head. Carissa eyed him darkly for a second before breaking into an uncharacteristic grin.

"You're good at giving answers that a girl wants to hear. Is your brother a womanizer, perchance?"

Dean laughed, "Sam is the farthest thing from a womanizer, in fact, he's almost a woman himself." Sam glared at him.

Alver laughed and the door bell rang at that moment. Carissa got to her feet and swiftly headed to the door, allowing her sister in. She was a buxom woman with a white coat lined with faux fur. "It's so great to see you Cari!"

Had that been why Sammy had started callin' her that? Dean looked towards her, smiling and she winked flirtatiously as she pulled off her jacket and removed her hat, blonde curls spilling around her shoulders. "Where did you meet these two handsome friends? Surely not in the nuthouse?" Her manner was half teasing, and her blue-gray eyes twinkled.

"You are very beautiful," he told her, noticing the shapely curve to her body.

"Why thank you," she said, batting her eyes at him. Carissa muttered something incoherent.

"Supper is ready," the youngest sister said, standing at the kitchen doorway before disappearing back in.

Dean made his way towards the oldest sister, offering his arm like a gentleman. "You have such strong arms," she fawned. "How'd you ever meet Cari?"

"Just chance, leading me to you I'm sure."

"What do you do for a living?" she asked, running her hand along his arm.

"I'm a mechanic."

She giggled, "I'm a dance instructor."

"What would I have to do to get instructions?" he ignored Sam who was shaking his head.

"You'd just have to ask."

They entered the kitchen, and Beatrice guided him to where he would be sitting. It seemed oddly formal. Alver sat at the head of the table, his wife to the right and Beatrice sat beside her with Dean sitting beside the dancer. Eli sat on his father's left, Daniella beside him and then Carissa and Sam. Everyone fell silent, and Alver shifted to sit up straighter than he already was and he folded his hands against the table, beginning to say Grace. Dean kept his mouth shout, and he noticed that Carissa was only mouthing the words. Beatrice nudged him when they said amen and he smiled charmingly at her.

"Now then everyone, don't you all fill yourselves too full 'cause I've made my very best apple pie," Faya said, passing the platter of carved ham towards Beatrice.

The oldest sister noticed his interest, as she set a few slices of ham on her plate, "I have the recipe," she said joyously.

The plates passed around, one after the other, delicious smell after scrumptious scent wafting around. The ham was cooked perfectly, and the flavoring was delectable. The vegetables were even appetizing and healthy at the same time. Everything was just absolutely mouthwatering –it was easy to see where Carissa had gotten her cooking skill from.

Carissa was only picking at her food and her father seemed to catch on quickly. "Are you tryin' to adopt a model figure now? It's a bit late for that," Alver scowled.

"If you give me your number, I'll come by for lessons. And pie," Dean added, grinning. Carissa had to be chewing her tongue off by now.

Daniella snickered. "Are you going to get the ballet ones?"

Dean smiled at her, "I was thinking of something more grown up."

"I bet you'd look great in tights."

"Shush Danni!" Beatrice turned to him, "Though I do agree."

"Oh but you'd look much better."

* * *

"How long have you two been together now?" Faya asked Sam.

Sam looked at me for an answer, unsure of what to say. "A while," I responded vaguely. I didn't really want to be having this conversation.

"What do you do career wise?"

It always had mattered to them what someone did for a career and how much income someone made. I cared nothing for it!

"I'm going to be a lawyer."

My brother beamed, "I'm gonna be a prosecutor."

"And what've you been doing for a living child?" Alver asked me.

"Daycare worker," I responded tersely.

"Could've done better."

"She's great with kids," Sam stated.

"She once saved me and Danni from a bear at the lake," Eli interjected.

I smiled gratefully first at my boyfriend, and then my younger brother. So he still remembered that. "She's quite brave –I can see her putting herself in danger to save others."

"You should've seen her! She was about eleven I think, and there was this hungry bear in the bush. Danni was too young to even remember, but I could hear the rustling and I knew something was wrong. Before I could do anything though, this huge monstrous grizzly stood up and…"

I zoned out the rest of the story. I'd been there, done it and I remembered it all. It was nice to know that Eli still cared though. "...reat car," was the next conversations I picked up on. It was my mother talking to Dean.

"'67 Chevrolet Impala –your daughter hates it." It was just a pollutant. I failed to see how he missed the point.

"She never had an appreciation for them."

He chuckled, "It's not all that shocking. She doesn't look like a car girl."

Faya stopped cutting at her ham slice, before looking towards Dean, her blue eyes piercing. I waited for what she said next. "We thought she'd either end up a car gal, or a drug addict."

"I thought that with her temper she'd end up murdered," Alver remarked calmly, chomping down on a piece of lentil.

I stiffened and set my utensils down, my appetite failing me. I'd been too anxious to eat much anyways. Eli paused uncomfortably and Beatrice snorted. "They obviously don't know their own child," Sam muttered. I saw Dean's smile falter, even for the briefest moment. He had to be shocked to think that my parents would think so ill of me. Well, this was my life.

"We should have raised her better," Faya said mournfully.

I pushed my plate away from me, setting my napkin over top of it. I looked across to my mother, she was easier to look at. "Please excuse me," I murmured, rising to my feet. "I think I need some fresh air."

I didn't hear what Sam asked to be excused for, but he followed behind me. I didn't even bother to slip into my shoes, stepping socked foot down to the soft gravel of the driveway. Sam closed the door and stopped behind me. I took a deep breath of the air, my body shaking from the cool night air and anger.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked me worriedly, stepping down onto the gravel beside me. He put his arms around me, pulling me against him in a hug.

I held onto him tightly. "They're my family, I want to try."

"We can leave whenever you want."

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. He smelled mintier today. "You smell good," I murmured against him, enjoying his warmth and comfort. I really hated skirts, and I was always cold if I was stuck in the awful things.

"Thanks," he chuckled.

"Should we go back in now?" I asked, looking up at him.

His soft brown eyes met mine. "If you want."

I set my head back against his strong chest. "I don't, but it feels like it's about time. I don't want Dean regaling my family with tales about me."

He grimaced, "That would be terrible."

* * *

Once Sam and Carissa had left the dining room, Daniella had passed Dean a note. The contents were quite simple. It read that Carissa was a devil child and the biggest regret of their parents. Dean read it quickly and jotted down with a borrowed pen that it was better than being a dependent brat before passing it back. There were a lot of things that Carissa was, but a devil wasn't one of them. She was not demonic, maybe a lunatic, but she wasn't a demon or anything related. Daniella burst into tears when she read the content.

Eli sighed, "Please forgive her, she's a bit of a drama queen."

Beatrice smiled adoringly at Dean. "I'm used to drama queens."

"This is such a lovely dinner," Alver remarked.

"Daniella! That is enough out of you!" scolded Faya, rising to her feet and grabbing dishes. "Get to your room!" The teenager fled the room in tears and Beatrice followed with an apology.

Eli looked over at Dean, "Welcome to the Corwins," he intoned flatly. "It's why I like university."

"How is it?"

"Great. Being captain of the lacrosse team, the girl fans are a great benefit."

"They're always a bonus," Dean agreed, grinning.

"Did you play any sports?"

"I'm more of a spectator."

"How'd you get the fans then?"

"You don't have to play sports for girls to worship you."

"Somethin' you learned growin' up?"

"Not somethin' ya learn, it's something you're born with."

"How did you realize…?"

"I've always sort of attracted people."

Eli nodded understandingly and Sam came back in to take his seat. Carissa was called into the kitchen before she'd even stepped into the dining room. Beatrice returned with a dramatic sigh, "Daniella's inconsolable," she announced. He offered her a wink, and she grinned back, passing him a card. "I hope I get a call soon."

"I'll call you," he promised, putting it into his pocket.

Faya had already cleared the table off but as conversation between people blossomed again, Carissa set the table and then brought out some ice cream. Her mother followed with a pie. Carissa handed her father the knife for the pie and then took her seat. Alver cut up the pie and served a piece for everyone, save for Carissa who passed on it. She accepted a small scoop of vanilla ice cream instead. When the pie came towards Dean, he took the last piece of it with a healthy scoop of ice cream.

It was one of the best apple pies he'd ever had. And when Faya asked, he told her just that. Sam agreed, as did everyone present. She smiled happily around at people. "Our guests are so kind," Alver remarked and Dean noticed that Beatrice had stiffened beside him. "Politeness can be used as a mask," he continued.

"I think it's time to go," Carissa said, rising to her feet.

"Men who try to please women are not manly enough. A real man, well he has plenty of obedient women," Alver growled, setting his napkin on the saucer.

Sam rose to his feet, his intimidating height silencing the forced chatter between Faya and her son. "Any man that believes the amount of women he has reflects on how manly they are needs to realize that times have changed."

Dean also got to his feet, aware that it was better to go before a fight broke out. "Dinner was lovely, and dessert was simply spectacular."

"Lovely to see you again Carissa," Faya said, waving tearfully, as they shuffled towards the living room, "it was a pleasure to meet your friends."

"It's a different world and religion," Alver grumbled. Beatrice looked to Dean hopefully, but before she could say anything her old man continued. "I'd like to have a few words before you leave," he told Carissa.

Carissa reluctantly returned to the dining room, where her father was still seated. Beatrice looked between them, "If you're ever in Winston you should drop by again," she said warmly before throwing her arms around Dean.

He hugged her back, "It would be my pleasure to stop by next time I'm in town."

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Sam told them, pointedly ignoring Alver.

Carissa strode back into the living room angrily; her hand on the knob and her clothing in hand before she'd even said anything to her family. She offered a hasty farewell before slipping out the door, and making her way to the Impala. Sam followed after her, and Dean paused on the steps, dawdling. Beatrice grinned at him, before she closed the door.

"Are you okay?" he could hear Sammy asking her.

She shook her head, her ponytail swinging. She turned to Sammy then, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for being here. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you."

"No problem," Sam replied gently. "I'd do anything for you."

She clung to him a moment longer before stepping away. She looked back at Dean and he made his way from the porch, glad they'd finished their touchy feely moment. He wasn't sure how much longer he could have stood it. "Thank you," she said, moving towards his Impala.

Dean nodded and offered her a genuine smile as he unlocked his car. The two lovebirds paused to enjoy the fresh night air and he started his Impala.

"I don't think I could be happier to be leaving," Carissa stated. Sam nodded in agreement.

"It wasn't all bad. Beatrice was great."

"You make a great optimist," she replied scathingly.

"Can _you_ bake like that?"

"If I really wanted, but Bea can make it even better."

"Beatrice seemed to really like you," Sam remarked with a chuckle.

"Hey, you can be another ring on her finger. She's been married four times now I think, and she's gotten a laaarge sum of money from her exes."

"What happened to them?" he asked, intrigued.

"One died in the war, another cheated, one was locked in jail for murder I think, and her last hubby went sky diving and died."

"She's had quite a colorful past."

"She's always been one to attract male attention and then sometimes disregard it in the same moment."

"Her and Dean sound like a perfect match."

"Yup."

"Whatever, she's hot and she can move."

Carissa scoffed, "Can you not talk about my sister that way?"

Dean laughed in response, "It's the truth.

She shook her head in further disgust. "If she kills you it's your fault and I'm not holding her responsible," his brother stated bluntly.

She muttered something darkly and he laughed at her. "Once I get my knives back, you should watch your back."

He laughed harder and Sam sighed. "You're just going to make it worse."

"I wish I had a knife."

"Sorry."

"I'll think about forgiving you."

Dean smiled.


	15. Guns, Knives and Teddy Bears

Guns, Knives and Teddy Bears

_"Hold the knife, just like that Cari. Good girl," he said, reaching out to caress my head. _

_I smiled, tightening my grasp on my knife. I liked my knife. It was perfect for me to hold onto, balanced just right for me to throw. I could hit a moving target at thirteen yards and drop him. I reached out with my free hand opening my door and stepping out from my room. The room beside mine was the one I was headed for because I knew he was there._

_"That's a girl," he whispered, his hand stroking down my hair. "You know what to do," he added, whispering it into my ear. I didn't offer a physical reaction, my mind already prepared for what I had to do. _

_I pulled the stolen key out from my pocket and inserted it into the door, unlocking it. I glanced back at him, his cerulean blue eyes not leaving mine. He smiled, a wicked thing that did not reach his eyes. "I'll do it, of course. You've asked it of me."_

_He nodded, "You are such a wonderful thing," he said, laughing, and stepping back as I opened the door and crossed the border unbothered by the fact that I was breaking and entering. _

_It was his room, completely dark, but I didn't need the light to know where he was. Sleeping unperturbed against the motel bed. I knew he was there, and I could hear his snores. _Sweet snores. _I lifted my knife, smirking to myself. This was going to be too easy. I could hear his voice around me, guiding me, telling me what I had to do. Just take the knife and drive it through his heart. _

_I tiptoed over to his side –he was laying on his back, completely vulnerable to me. I smirked. I lifted my blade and put it over his heart, hesitating for the briefest of seconds. His eyes opened, milk chocolate flashing and I drove the knife into his chest, slamming my hand over his mouth so that if he shouted no one could hear anything. I felt his warm blood flow over my hand, and I knew that he was dying. He relaxed suddenly and I glanced at his face, contorted with pain, his eyes staring lifelessly._

_Lights flashed on and I saw Sammy lying there, vibrant blood draped around him, staining the white sheets underneath. My knife protruded from his chest, wedged into him deeply. His face was contorted in pain. I threw a bloodied hand to my mouth, horrified. I heard that presence, floating around, laughing at the scene of destruction I had just caused and the pain I'd inflicted on myself. The blood dripped onto the floor, seeping through and the world flashed in agony, a splatter of blood marring the very walls._

I flailed against the sweat soaked sheets tangled around me. I kicked them off, fighting to get myself under control. They hit the floor noisily and I lay there, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. I could feel my body shaking all over, and I looked at my hand, half expecting to find it stained with blood too. But it wasn't. I knew that I didn't have the force to slam a knife through someone's heart and I knew that I would never do that to Sam. My breath caught in my throat and I sat up, unexplainable panic urging me to run to the other room and check on him. Make sure that it really was a dream. Make sure that I hadn't killed him.

I ached to run there, to find out that he was alive. But I knew he was. I hadn't done that. My knives were in my duffle bag, on the floor there. And with this dream, I certainly didn't want to be sleeping with them. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down from the state I'd flown into. Stress grieved me, ripping through my form and demanding release. Demanding to know that Sam was alright.

I clenched my hands, fighting to not go. I knew he was alive. I would _never_ do that. Not now, not ever. I wouldn't do it. He was okay. I knew that he was, but I still wanted to make sure. It was absolutely ridiculous. I pulled the cell phone that Dean had bought for me out and checked the time. It was quarter after nine. Both of them had to be up by now.

We'd driven out to Belhaven last night and arrived around midnight or so if I remembered correctly. Might've been closer to one. I forced myself to sit back down, my nerves on fire and my whole body itching to move and do something. That something specific to seeing if my boyfriend was alive when I knew he was. I couldn't let this dream overpower me. I had to kill it, essentially and pretend it didn't happen.

God, the first dream I'd had in ages that was my own, featured me killing my boyfriend in cold blood. I couldn't stand it one bit. It was just a dream! I sat up, grabbing my pillow and throwing it at a barren wall. I grabbed the next pillow and chucked it over as well, the throw pillows following. It didn't relieve my stress much, but I felt better. I figured it was time to get doing things and distract myself from the horrendous dream.

I grabbed some fresh clothing and went into the bathroom for my shower. It would at least drown my sorrows away. Since I'd been traveling with the Winchesters I'd started to shower at night more often than in the morning. Last night I'd been too tired after my family dinner and everything to even try showering.

I used the hotel soaps, and was happy to discover that they were cherry and vanilla scented. I actually really enjoyed the fragrances as they mixed together to form something not overpowering. And once I'd finished my shower and looked after my hair, I felt better and less stressed about Sammy having died. I'd talked myself into believing –no, into knowing –that he was alive. It was a dream. And I'd just taken away it's greatest power from me.

I changed into jeans, blissful jeans that wouldn't leave me to freeze to death as skirts did. I pulled on a long sleeved shirt and then threw my leather jacket on. I loved my jacket. I returned to my room, and picked up the pillows I'd discarded in a tantrum and returned them. I then left the room, heading towards Sam and Dean's. If something had happened to Sam, I would feel awful. But I was confident that it was a dream and nothing had happened to him. I rapped my knuckles against the door and it was a moment before Sam opened it.

I felt my stomach flip and relief flood through me. Even though I knew he was alright… I threw my arms around him, keeping my mouth shut to prevent babbling incoherently. I was so glad to know that he was alright and alive. Nothing had hurt him in his sleep, no murderers came and stabbed him, nothing like that. My Sammy was alright.

"Do you have to do that now?" Dean drawled.

I ignored him, pulling back from Sam, looking up at his very much alive face. "I had a terrible dream," I admitted. It'd never been my intention to not tell him that I'd had such a dream.

I didn't let him offer me to sit down and tell him or anything. I blurted the horrific dream out right there, softly telling him about it, and avoiding his gaze. I could still feel the blood pooling around my hands, still see those lifeless eyes. I refused to think of them as his, because he was standing before me and was perfectly healthy.

Sam didn't look at me skeptically. His eyes softened and he reached out offering me a warm hug when I got to the part about murdering him in cold blood. It was comfort I was grateful for. When I finished, we stepped away from one another. We were still standing in the hallway, and he stepped out from his room, closing the door behind him and shutting whatever comment Dean said out.

"Have you ever seen the man outside of your dream?" I shook my head. "Was there anyone else in your dream?"

"Just me, you and that man."

He looked at me curiously, "Are you mad at me for some reason?"

"No!" I said vehemently. "Not at all."

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, "I'll do some research to find out what the dream could mean. I really doubt that you'd kill me Cari," he said, smiling.

"I was really scared that maybe something had happened to you."

"It'd be weird if you enjoyed dreaming of killing me. Dean's a different story." I laughed weakly, agreeing with him. He asked then in what I realized had to be how pointedly he would ask other people from demon cases. "What did the man look like?"

"Blonde," I replied, trying to remember details from my dream. "Cerulean eyes and he was very pretty," I said, shrugging half embarrassed.

"Anything about him stand out? Aside from him getting you to plant a knife in my chest."

I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably, "He was possessive," I said at length. "Always calling me 'my girl' or 'good girl'. He stroked my hair and was just plain creepy."

He sighed, looking at me sadly. "I've no idea. Let me know if you think of any other details about him?" I nodded and then reached towards him, realizing that I had his full attention. "I'm safe with Dean in the same room, he won't let anything happen."

"I'm just… more worried than I need to be," I replied, looking at him through my eyelashes.

He pulled me into another hug and I relaxed in his arms. "You're welcome to kick Dean out and stay with me."

I laughed weakly, "I don't think he'd like that and it'd mean that it'd be easier for me to kill you."

"Also easier to check on," he murmured against my hair.

"He'd just complain," I replied logically.

Silence fell between us and I just enjoyed my time in his arms, glad that I at least knew where Dean was so that he couldn't spontaneously appear and ruin things. I liked having his arms around me.

"Is there anything you want to do?" I asked, hopeful to spend more time with him.

"I wouldn't mind going for a walk." There was no specification from Dean for how long we were supposed to stay in Belhaven.

"May I accompany you?" I didn't have to ask, I could've just followed or stayed behind but I wanted to know whether or not my presence was wanted. I'd been tagging along for so long, that asking if it was alright to be there seemed like a courtesy.

"Of course," he said, meeting my gaze, amusement twinkling in his brown eyes. "Why wouldn't I want you with me?"

I shrugged sheepishly and he pressed a light kiss to my lips, hugging me close. I set my head against his shoulder, the pleasant feeling of butterflies fluttering through my stomach a benefit.

"How do you feel about me having that dream?" I mumbled against him.

He shrugged, "It doesn't bother me, not unless it comes true." He stepped back, and I reluctantly looked up at him and our gazes met, "Are you afraid that it'll come true?"

I nodded in shame, knowing how pathetic I sounded. "It took every ounce of my will to not barge into your room and make sure you were alive."

"It would have been a welcome surprise."

"I didn't want to let the dream overpower me," I told him, "or else I guarantee you I would've."

"I believe you," he said softly.

I paused, glancing around the hallway. I felt strangely on edge. I looked back at him. "So how about that walk?"

He nodded and we headed down the hallway. I felt like I was wired or something, completely alert and checking out the hall. There was nothing there that I had to worry about. I was just unreasonably on edge. I grabbed onto his hand and we headed towards the elevator. I pressed the down button, hesitated and pressed it again. I struggled to not hit it again and stepped backwards.

"You okay?"

"Just… edgy. And a little energetic."

He glanced over at me as the elevator opened, and a couple exited. We entered. "We could go over a few drills if you wanted."

I pushed the button for the lobby, and glanced over at him. "That sounds like a productive way to get rid of my energy."

"We could work on your knife skills or practice some hand-to-hand again."

"Where do we go to practice?" I asked, surprised that I was eager to be beaten again. I knew that it wouldn't be any public area, because then there would be awkward questions. I understood that part.

"A park would be suitable, or we can kidnap the Impala and drive out of town where no one can find us."

"How much would that piss Dean off?"

Sam smiled, "Not much he can say when you have a knife in your hand." I laughed. "Y'know he might offer to come with us. And if you wanted to learn how to shoot, he's the best to teach you."

I stared at him, a smile pulling at my lips, "Wow. I'm surprised you trust me enough to let me get near him with a knife."

His dimpled smile flashed, "He can dodge."

Despite my laughter I nodded my head, "Alright," I struggled to say, "he can come."

He pulled out his cell phone, calling Dean and telling him to meet us down at the Impala. He neglected to say why. We made our way out of the elevator, and I was still laughing, dabbing at my eyes when he hung up. It was sort of strange to imagine me throwing my knife at Dean for practice and him dodging with Sam chuckling in the background. It wasn't _that_ funny, but I couldn't get the image out of my head.

He smirked at me, "Can you breathe?" I nodded, not bothering to speak since I didn't have to. We were in the parking lot and he leaned against the Impala. The fresh air helped me calm down, but I was still quite ready to go about and do something.

I moved to hold his hand, just because we had a moment together. We stayed like that for a few moments, until Dean emerged from the hotel grumbling. His green eyes narrowed at Sam, and he stopped leaning against his car. "Did you have to call? Couldn't have just asked me to go when you knocked?"

I sighed, and he got into the Impala after patting it. I suspected it was his way of apologizing for his brother having leaned against his precious automobile. I got into the back seat and Sam took the passenger as usual. "Where are we goin'?"

"Out of town, for some training." He paused, "She hasn't done any shooting and you've the best shot."

Dean glanced back at me, "It's not that hard really."

I looked at him skeptically. "I've never even held a gun. Don't tell me it's not hard."

"If you think of it as being hard, it will be so," Sam remarked quietly.

"I don't expect it to be hard," I growled, "I just don't expect it to be the easiest thing I've ever done before." I hesitated looking between them. "How long have you guys been shooting?"

"I was six when I started and Sammy was around that. I hit every bottle on my first time," he said, smiling proudly.

I had a funny feeling that I wouldn't do so good. "I didn't do as good a job."

I didn't say anything. Probably Sammy's shooting as a child would be better than mine now. I knew that it would take a lot of work to get accustomed to it and everything.

We drove in silence for a while and it was a welcome surprise when Dean finally pulled off the highway to a small side road. I got out of the Impala, and looked up at the clear blue sky. Sam headed to the trunk, opening the secret compartment and searching for some guns, I would have guessed. Dean got out, stretching and glanced towards Sam. I noticed that there was a small wooded area ahead of us, and beyond it there was a clearing that would probably work out as a training area.

Dean lifted up a plastic bag and set out for that clearing, confirming my suspicions. I glanced back at Sam, waiting for him. It was a nice day, not too cool or anything like the last few had been. I almost didn't even need my leather jacket. But I liked it, so I was going to keep wearing it. Sam closed the trunk, walking over to me and offering me a small silver gun. He had his own in hand. I accepted it, and held mine as he held his. I really had very little idea on how to work these things.

We reached the clearing where Dean was already contentedly shooting at some glass bottles. They exploded in a shower of glass, and he glanced back at us. There was still a bottle standing and he stepped aside for me to shoot it. I looked at him blankly. He raised his gun, and showed me how to load and shoot and aim. It was a rather brusque lesson, but an informative one. I aimed as he had showed me and pulled the trigger, an explosive shot firing out. The bullet clipped the side of the bottle.

Dean glanced at Sam, "Correct her."

Sam walked up behind me, grabbing my arms and locking them together in front of me before he squeezed the trigger. This time the bottle broke apart in an explosive shower of glass. "Try it," he suggested, letting go of me and stepping away. I waited for Dean to jog back from having replaced the bottles.

I glanced to Sam before looking back to the bottle and aiming it as I had been shown. I imagined his arms around me again, and I fired. The bottle shattered. I moved onto the next one, and tightened my grasp, bracing. I fired again, this time the bullet pierced through the neck of the bottle, only shattering that part of it. Sam nodded encouragingly and I moved onto the next bottle, and exhaled. I took more careful aim, imagining his strong arms around me again, and fired. The bottle didn't shatter, but the bullet pierced it. I blamed the bottle. I stopped before the last bottle, and fired again, this time the bullet piercing the top of it with a glass shower.

Dean carefully gathered the larger fragments of glass and disposed of them, before collecting the broken bottles. Sam taught me how to unload the gun and put the safety on. We walked back to the Impala and I was grateful that the shooting was over, because I suspected that much longer and I would have ended up with a pounding headache.

"Can I get any knife practice in?" I asked eagerly as Sam put my gun away.

He glanced over to where Dean was disposing the glass. "Dean –ya got anything she can stab?"

"I found this ratty ol' thing over here –go ahead and use it," he shouted back, tossing something towards Sam.

I looked curiously over at Sam, who had successfully caught whatever had been thrown. He opened his hand to reveal a small bear stuffy. I stepped back several feet, distancing myself immediately. Disdain and fear twisted my face into contempt as I stepped further away from Sam. He seemed to have noticed my reaction for he frowned and half started to hold the _thing_ out to me. I recoiled further, pointedly looking away from it, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Are you…okay?" he asked, stepping towards me.

"_Keep that thing away from me_," I snarled.

He froze, looking from me down to the stuffed toy he held in his hands. I waited for an amused smirk, for him to throw the wretched thing at me and watch me run away screaming. But he didn't. He remained where he was, looking at me and digging a shallow hole with his boot before dropping the toy into it and burying it. I stared at him, breathing heavily and watching him in disbelief. No one had ever done that one before.

He waited cautiously, hands above his head. I stayed where I was, refusing to move. Just because I couldn't see the stuffy didn't mean that it wasn't there. Waiting to attack me. Waiting to torment me. I didn't trust the stuffy. I didn't trust people when they were in the vicinity of the only object that I would run screaming from. And I would.

"Cari…" he said, shifting to move towards me.

"Don't move," I growled.

"I'm not going to do anything," he told me calmly.

"Don't move," I repeated, feeling the shakes start as they always did.

"Cari," he pleaded softly, not moving but I could tell that he wanted to.

I continued shaking, aware that I would probably begin to hyperventilate soon. My reactions to situations with teddy bears were either running and screaming, or shaking and hyperventilating. I preferred the running reaction, but I realized that my legs had already started to shake and that there was no way I would be moving from this spot for awhile. Sam knew that something was wrong and he stepped around the shallow hole he'd dug, hurrying towards me.

I started breathing in and out deeply, stopping this before I ended up passing out. It had happened before. Sam put his arms around me, pulling me against him. He didn't say anything and I slowly started to calm down, breathing deeply and letting it go. I had to calm down. I had to. It wasn't like the teddy bear would start crawling out from it's grave –I tightened my grip on Sam. Now I was just scaring myself mad.

"Are you okay?" he repeated quietly. I shook my head. "It's not all that uncommon to have a phobia," he told me.

"One with teddy bears is!" I hissed back.

"I'm afraid of clowns; Dean's afraid of flying."

"There are thousands of people like that," I whispered. "Name one person you know who's afraid of a stuffed animal."

He didn't say anything. I felt justified in my conclusion. But it wasn't just teddy bears that I was afraid of. I was afraid of the real thing too. Sure, once upon a time I'd been brave and saved my younger siblings from a hungry bear. Now I was terrified of the things. After having them roar at you and being overly concerned with someone else's life I developed what had to be a healthy fear that would temper out that self-sacrificing part of me.

I nodded, and stepped back from his embrace. Dean cleared his throat obnoxiously. "Done with your touchy-feely moment?"

I carefully walked around the shallow hole, forcefully averting my eyes from it, knowing that the hideous toy wouldn't try to jump out and strangle me. I quickly made my way to the Impala and got in. I wasn't going to say anything. I wasn't going to explain why. And above everything else, I wasn't going to let Dean know that teddy bears scared me.

I was done with training for today. Not after seeing my fear did I trust myself for any sort of combat. Knife throwing would have to wait another day, and I admit to be thoroughly depressed by that. I wanted to throw it, I really did. I wanted to stab something. Just… not a teddy bear. On any level, that was disturbing enough. But with me being afraid of it and putting a knife in my hands, I wasn't sure of how I would react to it. Probably very violently. Which was why it was time to go.

"You okay?" Dean asked as he got into the car, not looking back at me. "You look a little pale around the edges."

I nodded, pretending to be calmer than I felt. Sam climbed into the Impala, looking back at me worriedly. They both knew that something was wrong, but only Sammy knew that I was afraid of teddy bears. I supposed that I would have to tell him the full story of what happened when I saved Eli and Daniella from the bear. Also, I would probably have to mention about what happened after. Not that it was anything particularly terrible, just that it left a deep impression on me.

* * *

_Got so much planned to continue with this... _

_Hehehe I hope you liked this chapter. Personally I'm not very happy with it, but I struggled to get through it. Next chapter is flowing so much better._

_Have a great day!_


	16. Discovered for Retribution

Discovered for Retribution

It was wonderful when we returned to the motel. I adamantly refused to accompany Sam and Dean as they went out investigating some reports of oddities in the area. I designated myself to stay behind and take phone calls if there was something they needed me to research. I had only demanded to stay behind because it would be easier for them since they were well accustomed to covering for each other. It seemed like it would be awkward for me to place myself into their little stories.

I was in my room with my cell phone in hand, and Sam's laptop on my desk. If they needed any information I was expected to find it for them. I was lying on my motel bed, staring up at the ceiling. I felt inclined to tell Sam about the teddy bear incident and explain how it had come up. Because just randomly having a phobia of them was certainly abnormal. Yet I supposed that it wouldn't be that hard because he had seemed interested when Eli had started to tell him about the bear story.

There was a loud and thundering crash against my wall and the door caved in. I rolled to my feet, clutching my knives in hand. Two familiar faces peered in, smirking. The dreadlock sisters were back, apparently for me. The sunglass's wearing one smirked and the one with bronze gloves reached towards me. I wrenched myself back for their grasp, knowing full well what they were capable of. I didn't want to get anywhere near them.

"Oh look at that… little girlie's got a knife."

"So, so scary," stammered Eurale –the sunglasses dreadlock Gorgon.

"I knew when I saw that car that you'd be here. You _had _to be."

So I was becoming associated with the Winchesters? I couldn't see that as a bad thing, necessarily… but still. That car didn't solely mean that I was with them. It could have been the wrong car. And why did I end up running into these two whenever I was left alone? It was an accident last time. This time apparently they were looking for me. Which meant they hadn't forgotten.

And they hadn't been decorating this city with pristine frozen statues of couples. Eurale stepped closer, lowering her sunglasses slightly. I looked behind me and found that the only way out was through the window –and that would hurt me enough that I wouldn't be able to escape them. I'd just make myself easier prey. I looked back towards Stheno, the bronze glove wearing Gorgon.

I tightened my grip on my knife. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I had a weapon in each hand and some very base understanding of blocking. Not that I figured it would do me a lot of good… So I just had to make sure that whatever opening I saw, I would have to take it and make sure that my stabs counted before I was killed.

"Gonna fight us, little worm? So totally not worth being art."

"You may have dyed your hair but I still know you!" Stheno reached towards me, her bronze gloves closing on air as I stepped back. "I can still remember biting into your flesh!"

I dodged another slice, her glove cutting a small hole through the fabric of my shirt. I struggled to keep out of her range but I didn't have nearly enough room to allow for this. I had to do something before I ran out of my much needed space. She reached towards me, her gloves gleaming threateningly. I threw my knife at her and she easily deflected it. I threw my second knife as I pulled one from my boot and I was surprised at the hiss of pain I heard. I glanced up, tugging my last knife from my boot to see that the last dagger had flown over her head but had cut into one of her snake-dreadlocks.

She slashed her hand towards me, and I leaped back, her sharp claw slicing a shallow gash in my leg. I stifled a cry and she twirled back, her arm snapping out at me. I didn't move in time and her bronze fist collided with the side of my face, sending me reeling. I blindly threw one of my knives, praying that it connected with her as I stepped back, trying to straighten.

Her gasp made me look at her, blinking my confusion away. She dropped to the floor, her hands at the knife embedded in her shoulder. Stheno's eyes turned black and she yanked the dagger out. I knew that this was my only chance to get past Stheno. I ran towards her, my only knife clutched tightly in my hands. Eurale shouted something desperately but I slashed my knife against the Gorgon's throat. Blood splattered against me in a sanguine spray and Stheno fell back away from me, her body hitting the floor with a surprisingly loud thump.

Eurale roared furiously and lunged at me. Her hands closed around my throat taking me to the floor with her. The air in my lungs escaped in a breathy whoosh. Her fists pummeled my face, raining blow after blow. I was too stunned to be able to do anything and I felt searing pain as my lip cracked, my own blood slipping into my mouth as I cried out in agony. Her next punch was poised to smash into my nose when she abruptly stopped.

She shifted off of me, hauling me to my feet by my shirt collar before slamming me against the wall. A pained cry escaped my lips as she glared into my eyes. "Beating you won't bring Sthen back," she growled. "Killing you won't bring her back but it'll make me feel a hell of a lot better. To Tartarus with Hades's orders!"

She had picked up one of the knives I'd discarded in battling her sister and she held it in her hand. She set it against my chest, cutting through fabric and flesh. The pain was very much a jarring return to reality that my life was in danger and I was without a weapon. I formed a fist and smashed it into the side of Eurale's head hoping that it would do enough damage that I would then be able to get away. Get out of this motel and find a weapon or Sam or Dean. Just so long as I wasn't trapped here with this dead body and this revenge stricken sister.

My blow stunned her enough that the knife fell from her grasp. I dove for it, moving away from the wall at the same time so that getting pinned against it again would be less likely. Hopefully. I grabbed the hilt and whirled to face her; she charged me and easily knocked the blade from my grasp, sending it flying into the wall I'd just fled from. I tried to shove her hands aside but she caught my wrists and drove me to my knees.

She brutally wrenched my arms behind me in the next moment and I cried out in pain. I don't know when she let the illusion of having dreadlocks for hair fade, but now I could hear her snakes hissing and snapping at me. She pulled my arms back harder and I screamed. She was going to rip my arms from their sockets if this continued much longer.

An explosive shot echoed through the room as a bullet lodged itself in Eurale's throat. Her grasp on my wrists slackened moments before she collapsed to the floor, lifeless. I stood there shaking and nervous before turning to look to the door.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, noticing the other dead sister. He sighed, "You obviously aren't," he muttered, and I realized that I had started to shake even worse than before.

"If I promise not to kill you, could I have a hug?" I inquired, choking back tears.

He nodded lightly, putting his gun away. I walked over to him, shaking and in mild pain before I set my arms around him. I couldn't believe… she was dead. I'd just… I'd just killed someone. He wrapped his arms around me tentatively. I didn't care that it was Dean. I wanted the comfort. I wanted to know that this… this wasn't wrong. I knew it wasn't. I'd been fighting for my life. And now… now there were two dead. One because of me. I'd –I'd… I'd slit her throat myself.

I tightened my grip around him, struggling to not cry. I felt Dean shift slightly, a sign of his growing discomfort. I didn't like that it was him I was holding onto, but any comfort I could get was welcome. I took a deep breath, not wanting to prolong this agony as I fought to hold myself together just a little longer before I stepped back.

"Are you… feeling better?"

I shook my head, "No," I replied and was surprised to hear how watery my voice was. I wasn't really holding myself together as well as I had thought. He nodded lightly, looking towards the bodies. "Does it get easier… after this?"

"Yes," he told me quietly, his green eyes meeting mine briefly. He turned towards the… "You might want to wait in the hallway," he suggested.

I rubbed at my eyes, agreeing as I accepted his suggestion. I don't think that I could have stood to watch whatever he did. However he cleaned up the mess. I stepped into the barren halls, and the shakes that had quieted down began again as the adrenaline pulsed through me. I could remember the feeling of slitting open Stheno's throat and the blood… Oh god the blood… hot and-and viscous coating my hands.

I slid down the wall, my head on my knees and my eyes squeezed shut. I didn't want to think of it. I didn't want to. Dean emerged from the room, and glanced towards me, clearing his throat awkwardly. I wondered how long I'd been sitting here, just thinking about not thinking about it.

"I'll go ask for a room change," he stated, heading down the hallway, leaving me alone.

I took a deep breath, my hands shaking. I wish they'd stop. I heard someone running; I didn't look up to see who. "Carissa what happened?" the concern in his voice was touching.

I looked up at him, "I killed someone," I said as the reality of that statement sunk in and I burst out in tears. I really wished that I didn't have to cry. I'd been trying so hard not to.

Sam dropped down beside me, wrapping his arms around me. "It's okay," he murmured. "It'll get easier."

"What do you mean it'll get easier?" I shouted, pulling away from his grasp. "You think I'll get used to killing people?"

I could _feel_ my knife cutting across her neck and that sticky awful hot blood, coating my hands. My hands… I glanced at them, finding that they had dried, flaking blood on them. I felt my stomach heave and I jumped to my feet, scrambling to the nearest bathroom. I tossed my hair back, as I crouched over the shiny toilet and emptied the contents of my stomach.

I couldn't believe that I'd killed someone. I had murdered someone in cold blood. I'd taken my knife… I'd slit her throat! Tears streamed down my cheeks and my stomach heaved again, but I had nothing substantial left to throw up. I could feel the blood splattering against me… I didn't want to kill someone. But I'd had to. I didn't want to… she'd tried to kill me! I could have died! I reacted with what was perfectly normal. I fought back.

I sort of understood what Sam had meant. Maybe he'd meant it in a sort of professional way? As a demon hunter I understood that I had to get used to killing. I'd never _really_ thought about it before or considered that what Sam had been teaching me would be used to kill someone. I wanted comfort from Sam, not some professional opinion. Dean could have said that. I could have taken it from him or at least snarled at him and gotten a snarl in response! With Sam now I was jut beginning to feel bad.

But I just… I'd wanted comfort.

I heaved again, for what was hopefully the last time. I sagged against the linoleum tile and sat there, waiting for another to strike me. I realized that my lip was stinging painfully and remembered that Eurale had cracked it. Another heave struck me, the feeling of guilt slamming into me. The toilet was rather pretty. Recently cleaned, spotless and pristine before I'd gotten sick. Once again a heave washed over me. It would definitely need a good cleaning after this. Oh my aching stomach. Was this normal?

I felt my stomach spasms finally die down, relaxing and I sagged against the floor. I didn't move from the smooth and refreshingly cool tiled floor until there was a light knock on the open door. Sam stood there with Dean beside him, looking down at me and shaking his head.

"Do you know how unsanitary this is?" he asked, looking down at me.

I stared up at him weakly, too exhausted to really care. The adrenaline running through my body had finally relented enough to let me relax and this was what I got. My whole body ached, specifically my face. My lip burned and my chest stung; my leg was pulsing in pain. I couldn't really recall exactly when I'd taken these wounds during the fight, but I obviously had.

Dean glanced at Sam and my boyfriend stepped back, allowing him in. He lifted me up easily, and I didn't have the strength to protest as he carried me into a new room. He gently set me on the bed, glancing over at Sam who handed him some first aid materials. He pulled out anti-infection liquid and Sam rolled my pant leg up to my knee, exposing the shallow gash. Dean dabbed it on, and I didn't hear the bubbling to say that it was infected. I let out a relieved sigh, and Dean started to apply ointment to some gauze before wrapping it around my wound.

I was injured again, evidently. Was it just me, or did I always seem to be the one getting injured here? Dean gestured for Sam to pull my shirt off, needing to treat the slice inflicted. He was apparently unwilling to do so, afraid of my reaction or something.

My eyelids sagged, tired. I understood that my wound needed to be treated. And it wasn't like I wasn't wearing a bra. An exhausted, sleepy yawn slipped past my lips and I felt warm, strong hands cautiously begin to pull my shirt off. I think it must have been Dean who helped me sit up while Sam pulled the blood stained, ruined fabric from my body. I was carefully set back down against the bed, and I promptly dozed off despite the ministrations.

* * *

_Looking forward to the phobia explanation? That comes later :) I haven't forgotten about it._

_I love the reviews! Next chapter will be longer._

_I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day!_


	17. Doctor's Orders Be Careful!

Doctor's Orders –Be Careful!

A dull thud woke me up. I started to stretch, stopping at the twinges of pain radiating from my body. My chest especially hurt. I resisted the urge to itch it, knowing that there was gauze wrapped along it. These two brothers took good care of me, no matter what else happened.

"Are you feeling better?"

I looked up, surprised to see Sam above me. It took me a minute to realize what position I was in. My head appeared to be lying on his lap, his legs stretched out over the side of the bed and his back against the wall while I was lying with my feet at the end of the bed. I blinked up at him, accustoming myself to being awake again. I felt like I was made of lead or something. I must've taken quite the beating. The last thing that I remembered was being carried from the bathroom.

"I… Yeah," I replied awkwardly, attempting to sit up.

I emitted a gasp, as a searing flash of pain rippled across my chest. I now understood that. It meant I wasn't going to try moving again. I belatedly realized that I was in a different, clean shirt. They had definitely treated my wounds and evidently changed my shirt. It was a good thing I trusted them. My stomach decided to growl angrily at that moment.

I could remember having just emptied its contents out, but that apparently made no difference to it. I didn't want to eat, not really, but I was starving. A rumble rippled through me, and I looked up at Sam. He was watching me, concern shining in his light eyes.

"I'm hungry and in pain," I specified as to how I was feeling.

"Do you want to bring you some dinner up?"

I nodded, and realized that even that was painful. I was not going to be rendered immobile from this. Sam very cautiously shifted and gradually was able to slide away, leaving me without causing too much pain. He gave me a pillow in replacement and I knew that this wasn't going to bode well. I was going to end up immobile if he maintained this silliness. But nonetheless I didn't say anything against him for doing it.

I laid there in silence, flashes of the battle popping into my mind. There wasn't much pain this time as I remembered killing the Gorgon. I'd been fighting for my life. It was kill or be killed. The pounding I got for it though… Well I couldn't say that I would be too swiftly forgetting about this. These injuries were ones that would last. I set my hand against my cheek, and felt a twinge of pain. It was a pretty bad bruise right there. I think that was where the first Gorgon punched me. I was trying to forget their names.

The door opened and someone walked in. "Where'd Sam go?" Dean asked gruffly.

"To get food." I think… he'd said it was dinner? That meant I'd only been out for a few hours. Well it was nice to know I hadn't been that completely sick.

"How long?"

"Couple of minutes," I replied, wishing I could at least sit up and see him. Well not necessarily Dean –I didn't care if I saw him. I'd just rather be sitting up and looking around at things other than the ceiling.

He paused, "How are you?"

"How do you think?" I asked with a sigh. "I'm bored. I'm tired, exhausted and sore."

"Which wound?" he asked, instantly a little worried. "And is it just sore or burning or something?"

"My chest and it sort of feels like its burning. Not really, but I suppose that's fairly close…"

He probably nodded. Seriously, this was inconvenient. "Let me know if it gets any worse."

"Of course I will doctor."

He walked around and shifted into my view. He was looking particularly unimpressed. "Don't get lippy."

I looked at him, pleadingly, "Is there any way that you could help me sit up?" I could not live like this. Ever. He arched an eyebrow at me. "Please."

"Did you try on your own?" he demanded perceptively.

I winced at his tone, "Yeah…"

"Well don't move!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I kinda figured that when it hurt." I really hated doctors actually. They were so bossy all the time.

He sighed, "You have to be careful if you don't want it to get any worse."

I would beg if he asked it of me and I wouldn't be surprised if he did. I just didn't want to be lying on the flat of my back staring at a boring ceiling. I liked to look at people I was talking to. And I didn't want to be wondering if it was Sam or Dean and then find myself guessing at who it was by the weight of their footsteps. Nope. That wasn't my idea of fun.

Dean helped me sit up, setting a couple of pillows behind me to cushion my back. I was grateful for that as Sam returned with dinner. He handed me a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I was pleased to see it wasn't something like steak that might have been difficult to get down. I took a careful bite of the soup and was surprised at how my stomach growled for it.

Sam sat down at the small table, opening up his takeout container. Steak and potatoes. Dean looked over at the food longingly. Sam pulled it closer to him, cutting up his dinner. I wolfed down my supper, surprised at the voraciousness of my appetite. I hadn't really expected to be quite that hungry. As I had eagerly devoured the chicken noodle soup, Dean and Sam had been bantering about the steak. Apparently Dean was expecting Sam to give up his dinner. Which he did, to my shock. He was too nice to that brother of his. Dean finished off the steak and came over, collecting my garbage before disposing of them.

"How long will it be before I can move?" I hissed in pain as my lip cracked open, bleeding. Sam grabbed a tissue and handed it to me. I put it to my lip, with a half smile of gratitude.

"Careful," Dean quipped. "At least three days, give or take, depends on how fast you heal."

I stared at him, horrified. Three days without moving my upper body? My lower body wasn't much better off seeing as I had an injured leg but I could move it without searing pain slamming into me. I didn't do well with bed rest. No. I liked to be doing things, watching people, talking, whatever it was so long as I wasn't stuck somewhere without being able to move. No. He wouldn't order me to three days bed rest… Even if he wasn't _really_ a doctor, I did have to follow his orders because he was the closest to one that I had. I didn't want three days of bed rest.

"You're joking… right?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, as though asking if he looked like he was kidding. "No. You want to get better, you don't move from that bed for three days. At minimum."

"Please… no."

He laughed dryly, "Really Carissa."

I looked to Sam pleadingly.

"Three days isn't so bad."

I groaned miserably. "I'm bored! I need to have something to do or I'll go stir crazy! A card game would be enough right now. Just something before –"

"How's poker sound?" Sam asked, pulling out a deck of cards.

Thank god for card games! "Wonderful!"

"Strip poker sounds even better," Dean snickered.

I looked over at him flatly.

"Better watch what you say," Sam warned, coming to sit beside me.

"Come over here and say that," I growled to Dean.

He smiled and sat down at the end of the bed –currently a safe distance only because I couldn't reach further than my arm could stretch. I fucking hated this. "I'm good."

Sam shuffled, "You know how to play poker?"

"Nope."

*AWL*

Dean looked over at me, his eyes narrowed. "You're too good at this."

"Beginner's luck?" I replied innocently sweeping up my large sum of winnings.

"No. You had to have been cheating."

"How could I cheat if I didn't know I was winning?" I retorted, beginning to put the bills into my wallet.

"I don't know… but you found a way."

I smiled at him. If that was what he wanted to think, then who was I to ruin that image for him? I quite liked poker. In four games I hadn't lost once, and therefore I'd accumulated myself some money. I liked poker. An easy way to earn some quick cash.

"I'm out," Dean said, handing the cards back to Sam. "I'm not going to play to keep losing money."

"He's a sore loser," Sam murmured, smiling. He didn't seem to have any issues with my winning.

I closed my wallet, putting it into my purse. "Good thing we didn't play strip poker," I idly remarked.

"Ha! You know you want to see us naked."

I shuddered abruptly, "That's the last thing I want to see," I muttered. Sam looked at me, hurt flashing across his features. I cast an apologetic glance to him, knowing that I really had some explaining to do for that.

"Bet it's what you dream of first."

I coldly turned to look at Dean, "Come over here and say that so I can shove these bills down your throat and you can choke on losing."

"No thanks, I'll pass," he chuckled, moving further away from my grasp.

"He's a really sore loser."

I glared towards Dean. When I was free from these three days of bed rest… I would get my revenge. That was two comments in one day. I needed something to do and counting the number of comments Dean said that deserved to be hit for, would leave me eagerly waiting to hit him for them.

A familiar tickling sensation struck me, and I half sat up without thinking as I violently sneezed. I felt my chest wound crack open and could feel the searing pain as hot blood spilled from it. I gasped in the pain, lightly pressing my hand against the gauze bandage through my t-shirt. Sam and Dean were both looking at me worriedly.

"It's burning," I gasped, feeling the burning ache spread across it. My eyes watered.

"What-?"

"My chest wound is burning," I specified fighting to keep calm.

"You probably ripped it open," Dean said sighing. "You need to be careful."

"Like I can fucking help when I have to sneeze!" I barked angrily. Dean looked at me coolly. "And now I suppose you're just going to let me bleed to death?" I demanded.

"It's an option," he murmured looking away.

I looked to Sam pleadingly. He got up and made his way towards the duffle bags, pulling out some first aid materials. He paused, slightly uncomfortable as a flush spread across his features. "You're going to have to take off your shirt…"

I nodded. Of course. He needed to look at my wound. Well at least I had a bra on. It wasn't like I was going to be naked. I winced as I began to pull my shirt off. There was no nice, painless way of doing this. I yanked my shirt off, stifling a curse of pain as I set it beside me. Sam awkwardly sat on my other side.

"You're going to have to remove the bandage," Dean muttered, pointedly not looking at me. I was kind of grateful. The urge to slap him would have been too overwhelming if he'd been ogling me. It was different with Sam who was obviously uncomfortable because he thought I was. I was, a little, anyways.

I grabbed the tape and gasped in pain as I quickly tugged it off. Dean sighed. "Carefully," he added belatedly.

I looked over at Sam who cautiously reached over to pull the gauze bandage away. "I'm not going to bite," I grumbled, a little irritated.

He half smiled, "I thought you would have been uncomfortable." He wiped up the blood that had escaped the gauze and pulled out an ointment which he gently placed over my wound. "It's not that bad," he told me as it bubbled a little.

I chose not to clarify on whether I was uncomfortable or not. I looked at him skeptically. My wound was bubbling. Not a good sign as far as I knew.

"It's usual for it to bubble," he added, wiping away some of the cold liquid. I shivered.

"You would know," I said quietly.

"Sammy's knowledge of medical treatment is second to mine," Dean interjected.

I looked over at Sam as he measured some gauze the size of my wound and neatly ripped it. He fit the gauze over it and taped it back in place. "Be careful this time," he told me, kissing my cheek so lightly that it hardly felt like he'd touched it at all.

He started to put the medical items away and I pulled the blankets up as a barrier and like the good listener I was, very carefully, pulled my shirt back on. I pulled my hair from the back of it before letting the blankets drop over me again. Dean had shifted and was heading for the door; Sam had just finished putting the first aid materials back into the duffle bag.

"Careful this time Carissa," Dean repeated, looking at me pointedly before leaving the room.

Sam looked over at me and I smiled softly, groaning when my cracked lip started to bleed again. He walked over and handed me another tissue, which I pressed against my lip. This was going to get really annoying really quickly. I wished that I could have asked for a hug. I wished that I could have given Sam one without having to wonder if I could and deciding that I couldn't because my wound was in the way. Kissing was out of the question as well with this stupid cracked lip. This, to be summed up in as few words as possible, sucked. Majorly. Ooh, that was one too many. It just sucked.

He sat down beside me, smilingly slightly. "I'm lonely," I told him bluntly.

I was. It felt like it would be forever before I could get back to doing anything that I wanted to do. I knew that three days was not forever but I lacked the patience for it. I also lacked the ability to not be bored out of my mind during these days. I could play card games as much as I liked but I would get bored of them. Sure, winning all of Dean's money was great, but it would eventually get boring. And I wasn't sure if I could get him to play another game anyways.

"I can lie beside you, but that's probably about it."

"I know," I said without meaning to.

He chuckled and I moved over to make some room for him. "You really don't like following orders."

"You should see me when I'm sick," I replied as he cautiously lay down beside me.

"I'll look after you."

I stared at him as though he'd just gone mad. "I'll remind you of that should it ever happen."

I looked over at Sam, so close to me yet it seemed like there was a rather large distance between us. "You know my fear of…"

"Yes?"

I frowned at him; "Well you know how I saved my siblings from that hungry bear?" he nodded. "See after I saved them I realized what an idiotic thing I'd done. Brave, for sure, but completely stupid. I could have died and in fact was pretty close to it. So I became afraid of bears. But then, at home Daniella always carried this teddy with her from Faya's collection. Well Alver, in one of his hasty explosions like usual, um, threw me into the closest with the… bear collection. And they were always sensitive to… to noise. My shouts sort of… triggered them."

He watched me curiously. I took a deep breath. He'd been so nice about the whole burial of the teddy bear thing… he might as well know the whole story. "They were collectables… Um and they sang the song that became the Barney theme Sam. And I was locked in that closet for an entire day. It doesn't seem bad… but they were _always_ singing. And I was terrified. Some of them moved, they, they looked at me. They _watched_ me." It was an irrational fear… so what? It was horrifying and so god awful annoying. I hated teddy bears. And I feared them.

Sam set his large hand against my hair, petting it soothingly. "It's alright. We've all got our fears."

I carefully shifted closer to him, enjoying his presence. I was glad that he wasn't mocking me or even teasing me about my fear. It was just that. An irrational fear.

A question that had been on my mind for a brief while came forward and spilled from my lips. "Is it odd… my determination in following you guys?"

He shook his head. "No it's what I'd do…" He frowned suddenly, looking away. "It's what I did."

I noticed the traces of pain in his features and I almost reached out to hug him, but remembered my wound. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he told me, looking back with a tender smile, "it was a while ago."

"Doesn't make it any easier," I murmured. He nodded somewhat sadly, and I yearned to hug him. Curse this stupid wound! He needed me. I decided that I would suffer with my pain as I reached out to fragilely hug him. I didn't want to stress my wound out too much. He sighed lightly.

"That must hurt," he commented not long after.

"It's fine," I lied smoothly. It did hurt, a little. The longer I held him the more intense the pain got. But it wasn't that bad.

"You don't have to hurt yourself to comfort me," he protested, starting to move from my grasp.

"It doesn't hurt," I countered, holding onto him a little tighter. I winced, feeling the pull of my wound.

"I'm not listening if you complain later," he informed me, relaxing in my arms.

"Deal," I said, holding onto him stubbornly. A more intense stab of pain made me let go of him not long after.

He smiled at me and paused for a moment, considering something. "Why haven't you asked about Jess?" I stared at him blankly. Who was she? He froze, "I thought Dean would have… Never mind."

Dean knew her? Why would Dean have told me about her? I could tell that he didn't want to talk about her unless I brought her up or something but really… why? Who was she? I wanted to ask more about her, why he'd brought her up. But I didn't know if I wanted to pry, to try and find out more about her. He didn't seem willing to talk about her either.

"Sorry," he said, sighing and glancing away. Probably hoping that I would ignore it.

I didn't know what he wanted. Who was Jess? Did he want me to ask about her despite his body language saying opposite? Why was he bothered to bring her up at all? Why did he suspect that Dean had told me? He kissed me suddenly and I returned it, enjoying it, a kernel of curiosity blazing at his strange behavior. I was supposed to be taking it easy, and I had a cracked lip that he could have broken open again with that kiss.

He kissed me once more before pulling away. "I should go see if Dean's back," he said as he stood up. I stared at him, confused. What the fuck was going on? "I'll come back later," he said walking from the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

_I didn't want to divide this chapter into two. Seemed... useless and I wasn't going to try and play poker. It wouldn't have been fun for me to type out. _

_My next chapter is coming along kinda slowly... I've had this one ready for a while but my beta never commented on it and I waited and waited... So here it is. _

_And if you want to know what AWL is... as it so creatively stands... A While Later... Hahaha I didn't feel like worrying over it and in my documents I usually just use five *s _

_I hope you enjoy -have a great day!_


	18. A Heart to Heart Failure

A Heart-to-Heart Failure

I was bored. It had been an entire hour since Sam had left to find Dean. I had nothing to do. I liked to be up and doing this. So having nothing to do made my time pass… agonizingly. For three days it would be like this. What was I supposed to do during that time? I would go absolutely stark raving mad in three days with _nothing_ to do. I had television, sure, but it didn't count as _doing_ something.

When the door opened and Dean entered followed by Sam I was unable to contain my excitement at the soon to be lack of boredom. I could at least talk to people this way. I cheered whole heartedly, which naturally earned me a look from Dean that seemed to say I was crazy.

"I missed you," I replied with a sheepish grin, waving happily.

Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam smoothly cut in, "She would miss a piece of dust if it could provide her with companionship and entertainment." I frowned. If only he wasn't so accurate in that description. I only missed Dean because he was amusing albeit very annoying.

"Is something wrong with Sam?" I asked Dean perfectly content to ignore Sam's presence.

Dean looked over at me, an eyebrow arched in confusion. "Something's always wrong with him."

"He's acting weird."

"He's a freak –you can't explain what they do or why they do it."

"I am right here you know."

I glanced over to Sam smiling innocently, "I know." I would have hated for Sam to think that I was going to dismiss his strange behavior. Or that name. "Are you guys going to stick around for a while this time?" I asked hopefully. I was getting a little tired of being abandoned. Actually not the abandoning part so much as it was the left-alone-with-nothing-to-do part.

"Yes," Sam replied smiling indulgently.

I looked between the two brothers as Sam took a seat on the empty bed, and Dean selected a vacated chair to sit on. Both of them seemed completely comfortable. I wondered what it was like for them when they'd seen their first monster. Although they had grown up knowing about demons and everything, surely seeing their first monster must have left an impact of some sort on them. What was it like… when they saw a monster for the first time? I figured I could offer some relation with my Baba Yaga story but that wouldn't do much since I never knew or believed monsters existed until I started tagging after these two.

"What was it like for you guys when you saw your first monster?"

Dean traded a look with Sam and I wondered what it was supposed to translate between the both of them. They knew each other so well. I kind of envied that relationship. I mean even when I got along with Beatrice, we were never that close.

"Frightening," Sam replied first, his tone a leveled measure of calm.

"It was nothin'," Dean said, ever using that bravado of his. I didn't believe that for one moment.

"I… That vampire you guys saved me from wasn't my first encounter. It was the first one that I believed though," I added hastily at their looks. "The first monster I encountered was Baba Yaga. It was some older hunter, I now realize that that's what he was, who killed her when she was about to kill me. She even tried to bribe him in some twisted fashion, offering to trade me for his two sons…" I laughed half heartedly. It failed to sound that way at all.

Dean paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Why does that sound familiar…?" he asked intensely.

I glanced to Sam and then to Dean, a smirk playing on my features. "Maybe she wanted to eat you?"

He snapped his fingers suddenly, looking at me brightly. "She did!" What…? I stared at him blankly. "Our father had met a Baba Yaga once, in North Carolina of all places and some young girl burst onto the scene and almost got herself killed. I remember Dad –"

"That bastard was your father?" I couldn't help the incredulity in my voice, or the anger I felt bristling. That mystery figure… I'd always blamed him.

"If that "bastard" hadn't saved you, you wouldn't be here," Dean growled.

"Had he ever said something to me, to say that I wasn't mad, I wouldn't have ended up in a madhouse and by extension an addict on the streets!" I snarled, glaring at him.

Dean stood up, the chair he'd been sitting on tipping over, "He would have ended up in the loony bin then, leaving me and Sammy alone!" I flinched, looking away, truth ringing in his words. "That's the typical stop and look away… This has been a great heart to heart," he mocked.

"Fuck off."

"No, you wanted this heart to heart, you're gonna get one."

"Shut up, both of you please," Sam pleaded.

"I'd like to see you after you spent a year in the madhouse and four on the street because some asshole didn't say "don't tell"!" I barked.

"Should've been obvious –you don't see witches that eat children everyday!"

"Shut up," Sam muttered.

"I was terrified out of my mind!" I protested.

"Still could've kept your mouth shut."

"Shut up," Sam said, a little louder.

"And what do you expect a child to be able to do?"

"Shut the fuck up both of you!"

"You need to learn how to not be an ungrateful little bitch," Dean snarled, ignoring Sam, before leaving the room.

I fought to take a shuddering breath, trying to battle the rage in my system. Sam sat there silently, unmoving, until the sound of a dull thud against the wall reached our ears.

"Better have not broken his hand…" Sam muttered, shaking his head.

I closed my eyes. Sam sighed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, after my lengthy silence.

"I don't know," I replied wearily. "Are you?" I asked weakly.

"No," he answered honestly. I flinched and he sighed.

"I wish that I felt sorry for how I feel about… him."

He sighed again, "Wouldn't change anything."

I looked away, blinking hard. I was worried that this could mean the end of my relationship with Sam. I didn't want that. I wanted him so badly, it was just him. I really didn't want to screw this whole thing up and it looked like I was heading right down that path. I refused to be the cause for the break up, not again, not like always and here I was, heading in that direction. I wasn't sure if I could forgive myself if I did ruin this. It seemed to be going so well, even if we weren't really all that close.

Geez, had we only been dating for a couple of days? God, it felt so much longer. But I didn't want to lose my bond to him. I liked it, I liked him. I would fight to keep him, assuming he wanted me. Yet I also believed that he might not after this. I did hate his father after all, and it couldn't be that easy to throw him into a situation between me and Dean.

"Should I stop tagging along?" I asked, my throat tight.

"Of course not –Dean just… needs time to cool off."

"How… how do you feel about this?"

"I didn't get along with my father, but yeah, it… it still hurt, what you said about him."

I paused, feeling obligated to explain my hatred. He deserved to know why. "I always felt that maybe… maybe if he'd said something to me, that I wasn't imagining it, that I wouldn't have been sent to the hospital. That maybe I wouldn't have been disowned and had to live on the streets. I've blamed him since then."

"Dad… he just… he didn't work like that."

Awkward silence fell between us. There was no way that I was going to keep putting Sam through this… Not me hating his father, his brother hating me and leaving him stretched in the middle. No. I was not going to do that to him. Either of them. I was here, by my will, and their permission. I wasn't going to torture Sam by having him suffer this loop of hatred. I wouldn't do it, no matter how much it hurt me, or him, it would save him some in the end. I was just a girlfriend, something transient and fleeting. Dean was his brother, a bond they would have for years. Mine had no guarantee of lasting.

I swallowed tightly, unable to stop the hot tears rolling down my cheeks. "…gone in the morning," I whispered, half promising it.

"What?" he asked alarmed. I looked at him from my lashes nervous. "Do you mean… you're… you're going to leave?"

He should have every choice available too. I wouldn't just leave him here, without knowing why I left or leaving him some cliché note. I didn't want to go; I wanted him to stop me.

I nodded, averting my eyes from him, the lashes sticking together from hot tears. "It's… it's not fair to you guys."

"I… I don't want you to go." He looked at me sadly, "But if you _want_ to go… I'm not going to force you to stay."

My tears fell faster. "I don't want to! It's not fair to subject you to this cycle of hate that leaves you in the middle…"

He was quiet for a moment, and I despaired that by tomorrow morning I really would have all my bags packed and ready to leave. Dean's orders be damned. "It's okay to hate someone who could have saved you," he whispered softly. I looked at him disbelievingly, rubbing at my eyes. "Dean won't want to hear that you're leaving either."

I paused. If that was true then… "I want to hear that from him, once he's… cooled off." He nodded. "I'll stay until I hear that."

I shrugged in discomfort, and the movement was too careless and I winced in pain. I just wished that I could fix all of this. "Be careful," he chided.

I looked at him, frustrated. He smiled apologetically. I held my silence a moment longer, "Do you have to go check on Dean, or will you lie with me for a bit?"

"I can stay. Dean will go find… other methods … to calm down."

"Will we be okay?" I asked, carefully shifting to make room for him.

He nodded, lying down beside me. I moved closer to him and he held me close. I relaxed against him, inhaling his calming scent. He smiled slightly, "Being stressed takes a lot out of someone."

I nodded tiredly. "Is this much stress normal for you?" He didn't really seem bothered by this…

"Yes and no… Usually its case stress… not brother fighting with girlfriend stress."

"I'm sorry," I murmured against him.

"It's fine."

"It's not really." I gently ran my fingers through his silky hair.

He nodded lightly. I mumbled something sleepily, my hand pausing in played with his hair. "Sleep," he said softly, kissing the top of my head. I stopped playing with his hair; my eyelids dropping close as I tried to murmur something again. I leaned against his shoulder as my breathing evened out and I passed into dreamland.

Dean flexed his hand, sighing in relief at the mild pain. It wasn't broken then, or even sprained. That… He shook his head, and got to his feet. He should go check on Sammy at least. He opened his door and made sure to lock it behind him before moving over to Carissa's. He knocked once on her door before walking in. She really needed to start locking her door.

Sam was leaning against the headboard and Carissa was lying on his chest, her dark red hair fanning across her back. Sammy looked over at him, and Dean closed the door lightly, moving to the unoccupied chair and sitting down on it comfortably.

"How's she?"

"If you're still angry at her, she's going to leave," he murmured.

Dean scoffed, "Just because I was pissed at what she said? She's ready to run? What the hell for?" He'd been under the impression that she had a stronger will than that.

"She says it's not fair to us," he replied quietly. Carissa shifted, mumbling something; Sam set his hand on her head, looking down at her tenderly. She quieted against him, relaxing again. Sam idly ran his fingers through her hair, and she smiled softly.

"Idiot," he growled.

"I tried telling her that you didn't want her to leave either, but she wants to hear it from you."

"I wouldn't be able to handle your moping if she left. Good god, that would be torture."

Sam rolled his eyes, looking over at Dean exasperatedly. "You know you'd miss her too."

Dean was spared his answer as Carissa suddenly cried out, her body twitching violently from a dream. Sam frowned, looking down at her worriedly. She convulsed again, dreaming some hellish nightmare by the looks of it. Sam set his hand on her head, softly calling her name in hopes to wake her safely. Well as safely as he could. She flinched. He set his hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently.

She sat bolt upright with a startled cry. She immediately threw her arms around Sam, holding onto him tightly and continuously mumbling an apology. Dean frowned over at them. She was definitely overreacting to that dream of hers, or maybe it was just that bad. He cleared his throat lightly, trying to alert her to his presence. He didn't need a pillow to his face or something crazy like that. She seemed very liable to do that right now.

"I killed you again," she whispered, but not quietly enough that he couldn't hear her.

"Carissa…" Sam said gently. She followed Sam's gaze, noticing Dean. She glanced at him and then down to her lap.

"What do you mean you killed him again?" he asked, struggling to keep the anger from his voice, the worry too.

"It was a dream," she mumbled. "Just a really… bad one. Again."

"Again? Just how many times do you kill him?"

"Dean," Sam interjected warningly, shooting an annoyed glance from over Carissa.

"This was the third time," she said with a small, exhausted sigh, looking up at him.

"Sammy," Dean said, turning to look at his brother. "This isn't normal, y'know. She's dreamin' of killing you. Carissa are you ticked at him for somethin'?"

"No!" she said adamantly, regarding him desperately. She turned to look at Sam. "I'm not mad. Not at you, nothing like that."

"I believe you," he said, hugging her lightly.

Carissa looked back at Dean. "I would never kill him." Her eyes softened, filling with tears and she looked away abruptly. "I don't want to, even in the dreams he always makes me though," she hid her face against Sam's shoulder.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Did she have to cry? "Look, maybe there's something we can do about it? Probably can go out huntin' and gank the son of a bitch doing this to you. If that'd, y'know, make you feel better."

"I would be so ecstatic to kill that bastard!" she said, turning to look back at him. A couple of stubborn tears clung to her cheeks and she moved away from Sam to wipe them off. "I would love to watch the fucker die," she growled, her chin set in defiance, as though daring someone to contradict her.

"What do you have so against him?"

"He makes me kill! Every time I have to kill Sam! I don't want to do it," she growled. "Stabbing him to death, burning him, drowning him –I don't want to do it! You have to believe me, he _makes_ me do it."

She turned away, setting her head against Sam's shoulder again, likely to hide tears. Sam wrapped his arms around her, smoothing her hair down. "You don't have to watch him die for that, Cari," he said quietly. "We'll gank him, you know that."

"So he can make me kill you over and over again? In my head? I have no defense to that Sam! None! Can you honestly say that you could live with that? Whenever your eyes close, you watch me die. Not at someone else's hands, at your own," she growled.

Dean got up, stepping back towards the door. This wasn't a conversation he needed to be party to. "I'm gonna go…"

"Carissa, don't," he pleaded. "You don't have to be like us, murderers, killers…"

"Sammy!"

Sam looked over at him apologetically, turning back to his girlfriend. "You're not… a murderer…" she whispered, pulling away from him.

"I just don't want you to have to see that," Sam mumbled, looking down at her.

"Yeah, alright, I'm gone now," he made it all the way to the door before Carissa called his name. He looked back at her reluctantly.

"Is it… Are you alright with everything if I tagalong?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning at her as though she were short a few bricks of a load. "I couldn't stand Sammy sulking if you weren't here –there'd be no living with him!"

Carissa smiled slightly, "Are we… okay then?"

"Hey, your issue's with my dad. Dad was a lot of things, but he tended to be stingy with details. I get it, you have your point. But no, Carissa, if the choice were to lose him to a madhouse or you, I'd make goddamn sure you went."

Sam seemed to be a little troubled by his words. Carissa however, smirked unexpectedly. "'Cos I turned out alright, yeah?" she teased. "Get outta here Winchester, I want some time with my boyfriend uninterrupted by your ugly face."

Dean threw his hands into the air as though he were frustrated, when he wasn't really. He left the room, deciding that he didn't really want to tease Carissa any further about him being more drop dead gorgeous than Sammy.

* * *

_Thank you so much for the lovely review Jenza. Probably the only reason why I've updated this story now with a chapter I've had hanging around for quite awhile haha..._

_Sorry about that. I wasn't happy with this chapter and I've only started one chapter ahead of this but I've another two completed chapters for further ahead sitting around plus a sex scene and some other scenes. But this story just hasn't really been working for me. I figured most people weren't interested in it due to the lack of reviews. I think the Shadow King's Ultimate Test spoiled me, especially considering it was my first fic._

_I doubt that I'll write the rest of this story. I have it all planned out, practically to a T._

_If you want though, instead of updating the next chapter, I can update a detailed in depth summary of what I was planning on having happening. From this point onwards. Sadly, I rushed for this moment just so that I could get to the main plot because I figure that probably had to do with the lack of reviews. _

_However, my other story, Bloody Ashes Are All I Have, shall be updating on a fairly regular basis. I hope to make it the first Supernatural fic that I complete considering how much more of R.I.T there is to go through. If someone wishes to take this story over, as I think some people can put stories up to adoption or something (saw a couple fics like that) I wouldn't mind letting thisone go. It's good and the plot is amazing, I just feel like I've messed up with this story. _

_Anyways, thanks for sticking around this long. I'll consider writing more probably. And always feel bad that I didn't write more, didn't finish it. Ashia's Surprise is like that, ahaha... Three parts and I just can't get the third part written. Terrible of me. _

_Also I got really worried and a tad bit paranoid about Dean's personality. I wanted to be really close to being exact and in that line of thought I didn't want t put this chapter up because Dean doesn't specifically call on Carissa's admittance of insanity like I feel he should but I also don't know what to put in to comment on that and keep it with the argument. _

_I feel that I owe this explanation to those of you who've been waiting for more updates. And if you want to adopt this story or something, please let me know. But I really don't know how the adoption thing works. Uh well if I do update the summary of what I was going to write, and I end up writing more and suddenly write the rest of this, I will delete the summary and post those chapters. But I'll only update the summary depending on the feedback I get. Otherwise, I may PM the summary to individuals who want to know what was going to happen._

_Thank you everyone!_


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